Page 14 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings (Alpha Mafia Kings #1)

“Don’t give me that look,” he told Mr. Iceflare.

“You can’t expect to keep all this sweetness to yourself.

” His hand slid down to my neck, fingers tracing the sensitive skin over my scent gland.

“Besides, our little omega here is practically drowning in need. One set of fingers isn’t going to cut it, is it, sweetheart? ”

His touch burned against my fevered skin, igniting new waves of need. Unlike Mr. Iceflare’s controlled exploration, Mr. Enigma’s was playful, unpredictable, one moment gentle, the next almost rough as he squeezed my hip.

“So soft,” he murmured, his fingers tracing a path down my arm before sliding around to tease my nipple. “Like living silk. Tell me, little mouse, do you want me to touch you too? I want to hear you say it.”

I shivered, caught between the two alphas—Mr. Iceflare’s fingers still teasing my entrance while Mr. Enigma explored with increasingly bold touches. My scent glands throbbed under his attention, releasing another wave of pheromones that made all three alphas growl in unison.

“Yes,” I admitted, the word barely audible. “Please.”

“Please what?” Mr. Enigma prompted, his grin widening as he tugged my robe farther open, exposing more of my chest to his wandering hands. “Be specific, sweetheart. I love hearing dirty words from pretty mouths.”

“Please touch me,” I managed, my pride in tatters but beyond caring. “Both of you.”

“With pleasure,” Mr. Enigma purred, just as Mr. Iceflare finally slid one finger into me.

I couldn’t hold back a cry of relief. My inner muscles clenched around the intrusion greedily, trying to pull him deeper. The sensation was both salvation and torment, not enough to satisfy the aching emptiness, but enough to make my body sing with pleasure.

“So tight,” he said, adding a second finger with agonizing slowness, his other hand still tangled in my hair, holding me in place. “So hot. Your body’s burning up from the inside out, isn’t it?”

I nodded wordlessly, beyond speech as he began to move his fingers in a rhythm that had me gasping.

Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through me, my inner walls clenching and releasing around his fingers in a desperate rhythm.

The movement caused me to shift slightly on his lap, and I felt his hardness pressing against me through the sheet, hot and insistent.

Mr. Iceflare’s breath hitched, his pupils dilating further as my inner muscles squeezed his fingers.

His jaw clenched tight, a muscle jumping beneath the skin as he fought for control.

When I involuntarily rocked against his erection, he let out a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through his chest and into mine.

“Look at how he takes your fingers,” Mr. Enigma murmured, his hand now tracing circles on my lower back, each movement bringing him closer to the curve of my ass. “His body’s starving for it.”

Mr. Iceflare’s nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, his eyes momentarily fluttering closed before snapping back open with renewed intensity. A bead of sweat traced down his temple as he visibly struggled to maintain his composure.

“Look at me,” Mr. Iceflare commanded softly, tugging gently on my hair to guide my gaze back to his.

I forced my eyes open, not having realized I’d closed them.

His face was inches from mine, his expression a complex mixture of hunger, calculation, and something that might have been wonder.

This close, I could count his eyelashes, could see the faint scar that bisected his left eyebrow, could feel his breath mingling with mine.

“Your scent,” he murmured, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply. “It’s intoxicating. Different from any omega I’ve encountered.”

“Great,” I managed between gasps, trying to maintain some semblance of my usual snark despite being sandwiched between two alphas, one’s fingers buried inside me while the other’s hands roamed my skin with increasing boldness.

“Add it to my list of omega superpowers. Excessive responsiveness, unique scent profile, and the uncanny ability to get myself into life-threatening situations with mafia alphas.”

I would have continued my snarky commentary, but at that moment, he curled his fingers upward, finding a spot inside me that made stars explode behind my eyes.

At the same time, Mr. Enigma’s hand slid lower, cupping my ass with a possessive squeeze.

The dual sensation was overwhelming, and a broken cry escaped me, my body arching between them.

“There it is,” Mr. Iceflare said with satisfaction, his voice a rough purr against my ear. “The sweet spot that makes you forget everything but pleasure.”

He pressed against it again, more deliberately this time, establishing a rhythm that had me whimpering. My inner muscles clenched desperately around his fingers, trying to pull them deeper, to get more, to satisfy the aching emptiness that nothing but a knot could truly fill.

“Close,” Mr. Storm said from his bed, his voice strained as he watched, nostrils flaring at the change in my scent.

Mr. Iceflare increased his pace, his fingers working that spot inside me with merciless precision while Mr. Enigma’s hands continued their exploration, one sliding around to tease my nipple while the other kept its firm grip on my ass.

Caught between them, surrounded by their scents, I was drowning in sensation.

“Please,” I gasped, not even sure what I was begging for anymore. More? Relief? For them to stop? For them to never stop?

Mr. Iceflare growled, his lips brushing my ear. “Come for us, little omega.”

As if my body had been waiting for permission, I shattered.

Pleasure crashed through me in waves, my inner muscles convulsing around his fingers with such force that I felt him groan in response.

For one blessed moment, the burning need of my heat receded, replaced by a floating sensation of relief.

“Beautiful,” Mr. Enigma murmured, his hands gentling but not leaving my body as I trembled through the aftershocks. “Absolutely stunning.”

My forehead dropped to rest against Mr. Iceflare’s shoulder, my body trembling with the intensity of my release.

But the euphoria faded almost immediately, like a match flaring bright, then quickly burning out.

The momentary bliss evaporated, leaving behind an even more desperate emptiness.

As Mr. Iceflare slowly withdrew his fingers, I had to bite back a whimper of protest, my body instinctively trying to follow his retreat, to keep him inside.

Mr. Enigma moved back, though his hands lingered on my skin as if reluctant to break contact. “Just a taste,” he said, his green eyes dark with promise. “Nothing more.”

I made a small sound of protest at the loss of contact, my body instinctively trying to follow Mr. Enigma’s retreating touch even as I remained on Mr. Iceflare’s lap. The movement caused me to rock against the hardness beneath me, drawing a sharp inhale from the alpha.

“Careful, little omega,” he warned, his hands moving to my hips to still me.

“Don’t start what we won’t finish.” His thumb traced my lower lip in a gesture that was both possessive and oddly tender.

“That should take the edge off for a while,” he said, the glint in his eyes telling me he knew exactly how temporary the relief would be.

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Right. Like offering a starving man a single potato chip. Delicious, but ultimately just a reminder of how hungry you still are.” I shifted away from his touch, my pride finally making a belated appearance.

“Don’t expect a thank-you card for your half-assed assistance. ”

His lips curved into a knowing smile. “Not looking for gratitude, little mouse. Just compliance. Just enough to keep you coming back for more, but never enough to satisfy. A perfect arrangement, wouldn’t you say?”

“Perfect for you, maybe,” I said, tugging my robe closed with fingers that still trembled from the aftereffects of pleasure. “Manipulative bastards.”

“Such harsh words for men who just helped you,” Mr. Enigma chided with mock hurt. He returned to his bed, stretching like a satisfied cat as he settled against the pillows.

Mr. Iceflare exchanged a glance with his companions, some unspoken communication passing between them. Mr. Enigma’s lips curved in a knowing smile, while Mr. Storm’s expression remained unreadable, though his scent had thickened with desire he made no attempt to hide.

“Let’s call it an investment,” Mr. Iceflare said finally, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture surprisingly intimate. “In a game that’s just beginning.”

“A game,” I repeated, my post-orgasmic clarity already fading as heat began to build again in my core. “Still playing cat and mouse. Only now the little mouse has wandered right into the cats’ territory.” I let out a humorless laugh. “And we all know how that usually ends.”

“Smart mouse,” Mr. Enigma commented from his bed, his green eyes gleaming with something that might have been approval as he adjusted his position, making no attempt to hide the effect I’d had on him.

“But mice get eaten in the end,” I pointed out, trying to ignore the way my body already craved more despite the temporary relief. “Or squished. Or trapped in those humane catch-and-release things that are actually just plastic coffins if you forget to check them.”

Mr. Storm’s gaze locked with mine, carrying an undertone that sent shivers down my spine. “Change the rules,” he said quietly, the simple phrase somehow more ominous than a longer explanation.

I stood on shaky legs, pulling my robe tighter around me, though the damage was done. All three had seen everything, had watched me come apart under their combined touch. “And how exactly does a mouse change the rules when playing with three predators? Unionize?”

Mr. Iceflare’s smile was all teeth, but there was something else there too, a heat that had nothing to do with calculation or strategy. “That, little mouse, is what we’re all waiting to find out.”

I backed toward the door, suddenly needing space to think. The brief relief had cleared my head somewhat, but I could already feel my heat rebuilding, the temporary reprieve fading. The memory of their touches, of their hungry gazes, haunted every step I took.

“Remember our arrangement,” Mr. Iceflare called as I reached the door. “Our secret stays between us, or next time, there will be no relief. Only more promises of what awaits you when we’re free.”

“Got it,” I replied, trying for nonchalance despite my trembling legs. “My lips are sealed. Unlike other parts of me, apparently.”

I slipped back into my quarters, leaning against the door until my knees gave out and I slid down to the floor.

My body still tingled from their touch, the phantom sensation of Mr. Iceflare’s fingers inside me, of Mr. Enigma’s hands on my skin, of Mr. Storm’s intense gaze tracking every reaction.

My inner muscles continued to clench around nothing, desperate for the fullness that only an alpha’s knot could provide.

“What the actual fuck just happened?” I whispered to the empty room. “Did I just get felt up by two mafia bosses while the third watched? Is this my life now?”

These men were dangerous, not just because they were mafia alphas with the means and motivation to hurt me, but because they were clever. Strategic. Playing a game I didn’t fully understand, with rules that seemed to shift with each encounter.

And worst of all, despite everything, my body craved more. Not just relief from my heat, but more of their touch. More of that moment when their eyes had darkened with something beyond calculation or threat, something that had looked almost like genuine desire.

“You’re so screwed, Ty,” I whispered to myself, wrapping my arms around my knees as another wave of heat began to build. “And not even in the way you need to be.”

The temporary relief was already fading, the emptiness returning with a vengeance. In a few hours, I’d be back where I started—desperate, aching, caught between De Luca’s threats and the alphas’ dangerous game.

And the worst part? Part of me was already looking forward to the next round.

Already wondering what it would feel like to have Mr. Enigma’s fingers inside me instead of Mr. Iceflare’s.

Already curious about whether Mr. Storm’s quiet intensity would translate to something equally controlled and devastating in a more intimate context.

“Stop it,” I hissed at myself, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. “They’re not hot alpha boyfriends; they’re mafia bosses who’ve threatened to hunt you down and make you suffer. Just because they have magic hands doesn’t change that.”

I pressed my thighs together, mortified by the direction of my thoughts. These men had threatened me. Had promised to hunt me down. Had made it clear that whatever temporary truce we’d established was just that, temporary.

And yet my treacherous body responded to the memory of them with renewed need, with a hollow ache that the brief orgasm had only temporarily soothed. My omega instincts recognized them as prime alphas, as potential mates who could satisfy my heat completely if they chose to.

“It’s just biology,” I told myself firmly, pushing myself up from the floor on shaky legs. “Just chemicals and hormones and evolutionary bullshit. It doesn’t mean anything. Like being hungry and finding a cheeseburger attractive doesn’t mean you want to marry it.”

But as I made my way to the shower to wash away the evidence of what had just happened, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just stepped into something far more complex than a simple bargain for temporary relief.

The water sluiced over my overheated skin but did nothing to wash away the memory of their touch, of the weight of three alpha gazes on my naked body, of the way they’d reacted to my scent as if it were something extraordinary.

“Just get through tomorrow,” I whispered to my reflection in the steamy mirror. “Get De Luca what he wants, save Dad, and figure out the rest later. One disaster at a time, Ty.”

But even as I said it, I knew the truth. Whatever game the alphas were playing, I was already caught in it. And despite all my instincts for self-preservation, part of me was already anticipating the next move.