Page 21 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings (Alpha Mafia Kings #1)

“Your mouth,” I begged, beyond shame now. “Please, I need your mouth on me.”

He rewarded my pleading with a slow lick from base to tip that had my hips bucking off the bed. The wet heat of his tongue against my most sensitive flesh sent shock waves of pleasure racing through me, my hands fisting in the sheets above my head.

“Like this?” he asked, his voice a dangerous rumble that vibrated through my core.

“Yes,” I gasped, my thighs trembling as he repeated the action. “Please, more.”

Instead of giving me what I’d asked for, he moved lower, his hands pushing my thighs wider to expose me completely.

I should have felt vulnerable, spread open like this with three alphas watching, but the heat had burned away most of my shame hours ago.

There wasn’t room for embarrassment when my body was literally killing me with need.

“So ready,” he murmured, one finger exploring between my legs. “I’ve never seen an omega respond so intensely.”

“Smells fucking incredible,” Mr. Enigma added. “Like honey and jasmine and something else. Something addictive.”

Mr. Iceflare lowered his head and licked a broad stripe through my slick, his tongue hot and insistent against my entrance. The sensation was so unexpected, so intense, that I cried out, my back arching off the bed. Every nerve ending fired simultaneously, overwhelming my senses completely.

“Oh God,” I gasped, my hands flying down to tangle in his dark hair despite his earlier command to keep them above my head. “What are you…”

“Tasting what’s mine,” he growled against me, the vibration sending new waves of sensation racing through my hypersensitive body.

His tongue circled my entrance before pushing inside, the wet heat making stars explode behind my eyes.

It should have been humiliating, having an alpha’s face buried between my thighs, his tongue delving into places I’d never been touched before. Instead, it was transcendent.

“Fuck, look at him take it,” Mr. Enigma groaned. “Like he was made for this. Made for us.”

“Ours,” Mr. Storm said, his voice rough with desire.

Mr. Iceflare continued his assault, his tongue working me open with devastating precision. When he added his fingers to the mix, sliding one inside alongside his tongue, I nearly came on the spot, the dual sensation overwhelming in its intensity.

“Please,” I begged, my voice breaking on the word. “Please, I need more.”

“Not yet,” Mr. Iceflare said, pulling back just enough to speak. His lips and chin glistened from tasting me, the sight so erotic I whimpered. “First, I’m going to make you come on my tongue. Then my fingers. And only then, if you’re very good, will you get my cock.”

The crude promise sent another wave of heat through me. “Yes,” I gasped. “Please, yes. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. Just please don’t stop.”

He dove back in with renewed enthusiasm, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to drive me rapidly toward the edge. When he curled his fingers upward, finding that bundle of nerves, I cried out, my back arching off the bed.

“There it is,” he murmured against me, the vibration adding to the overwhelming pleasure. “The spot that makes you forget everything but this.”

He was right. In that moment, I forgot my plan, forgot my strategy, forgot everything but the overwhelming need for release. “Please,” I begged.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice vibrating against my most sensitive flesh.

As I fractured apart under his touch, my inner muscles clenched rhythmically around his fingers, my cock pulsing against my stomach as release painted my skin in white stripes.

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

But as the aftershocks faded, I realized with sinking disappointment that it wasn’t enough.

The edge had been taken off, but the core of my heat remained, a smoldering ember ready to flare back to life at any moment.

It was like putting a Band-Aid on a gunshot wound; it was technically treatment but nowhere near sufficient.

Mr. Iceflare seemed to sense my realization. He lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine with understanding. “Not enough, is it?”

I shook my head, unable to form words past the lump in my throat. After everything, after letting him see me come apart completely, it still wasn’t enough. I was still in heat, still in danger, still desperate for more.

“You should go,” he said as he withdrew his fingers. “Before this goes further than any of us can control.”

The dismissal stunned me completely. After everything—after admitting I needed them, after begging for their touch, after coming apart in their hands—he was sending me away? Again? What kind of sadistic game was this?

“What?” I gasped, pushing myself up on shaky elbows. “You can’t be serious. Is this some kind of alpha power trip? Get the omega desperate, then leave him hanging? Because if so, congratulations, you’ve reached new heights of cruelty.”

“I’m deadly serious,” he replied, his expression closing off, that cold mask of control sliding back into place. “This has gone far enough.”

“I need more. I need?—”

“I know what you need,” he interrupted, his voice hard. “But you don’t get to decide when or how you get it.”

I stared at him, taking in the tension in his jaw, the way his pupils remained dilated despite his attempt at cold indifference.

For all his icy control, his body was betraying him just as thoroughly as mine was betraying me.

The scent of aroused alpha hung heavy in the air, undercutting his words with the truth his body couldn’t hide.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from Mr. Self-Control,” I said, anger cutting through the haze of pleasure and desperation.

“You’re sitting there with a hard-on that could drill through concrete, but sure, tell me more about how you’re in charge of the situation.

We both know what’s happening here. You’re just as affected as I am; you’re just better at lying about it. ”

Something inside me snapped. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe it was the heat toxicity affecting my brain. Or maybe it was the simple realization that I had nothing left to lose. My father’s life was on the line. My own survival was at stake. And this alpha thought he could play games with both?

Instead of retreating, I moved closer, straddling his lap in one fluid motion that surprised even me.

The contact drew a sharp inhale from him, his hands immediately coming to my hips, not to push me away, but to hold me still.

The feeling of his hardness against me was unmistakable, his body contradicting every word coming out of his mouth.

“What are you doing?” he growled, the warning in his voice undermined by the way his cock hardened against me.

“What does it look like?” I countered, rolling my hips deliberately against his length. “I’m taking what I need. Since asking nicely clearly doesn’t work with you alphas, I’m trying a more direct approach. Consider it omega self-defense.”

His fingers dug into my flesh with bruising force. “I told you to go.”

“And I’m telling you no,” I replied, leaning closer until our faces were inches apart. “I’m not leaving. What are you going to do about it, tough guy? Throw me off? We both know you don’t want to.”

His nostrils flared as he caught another wave of my heat-scent. “You’re playing with fire, little mouse.”

“Maybe I want to get burned,” I whispered, my fingers trailing lightly down his chest, tracing the defined muscles, the fading bruises, the thin pink lines of healing cuts.

His skin was burning hot beneath my touch, his heart pounding a rapid rhythm I could feel through my fingertips.

“Better to burn than freeze to death, which is what you’re offering. ”

I continued my exploration, moving lower, following the trail of dark hair that led to where his cock stood proud and ready. Just as my fingers were about to make contact, his hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist with bruising force.

“Don’t,” he warned, his voice a dangerous rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

“Why not?” I challenged, not pulling away despite his grip. “We both know you want this as much as I do. Your cock’s not exactly being subtle about it. It’s practically waving hello.”

“What I want doesn’t matter,” he said, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “This isn’t just about relief anymore. If I take you, if we take you, it changes everything.”

The implication hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. He wasn’t just talking about sex; he was talking about claiming, about something deeper and more permanent than a simple knotting.

“I don’t care,” I said, the words coming from somewhere deep and desperate inside me. “I need this. I need you. And honestly? I’m dying here, so your alpha existential crisis is going to have to take a back seat to my imminent heat toxicity.”

His jaw clenched, the muscle jumping beneath his skin as he fought for control. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Then show me,” I whispered, and before I could second-guess myself, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

The kiss was clumsy at first, I had limited experience, and none with someone like him.

Our noses bumped, our lips clashed, and for one heart-stopping moment, he remained perfectly still, his lips unyielding beneath mine.

Great, my first real kiss and I’m botching it spectacularly. Add it to my list of omega failures.

Then something inside him broke.

With a growl that vibrated through his chest and into mine, he took control of the kiss.

His free hand came up to tangle in my hair, tilting my head to the angle he wanted.

His lips moved against mine with bruising intensity, demanding rather than asking for response.

When his tongue swept across the seam of my lips, I opened for him without hesitation, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

The sensation was overwhelming, wet heat and demanding pressure, his tongue exploring my mouth with a thoroughness that left me dizzy and gasping. He tasted of power and desire and something uniquely alpha that made my omega instincts purr with satisfaction.

His grip on my wrist loosened, allowing me to continue my exploration.

My fingers wrapped around his length, drawing a groan from him that I swallowed with our kiss.

He was burning hot against my palm, hard as steel beneath velvet skin, the size of him making my hand look almost delicate in comparison.

Jesus, no wonder he was so arrogant. With equipment like this, he had reason to be.

I stroked him experimentally, clumsy at first but gaining confidence as he responded with another deep growl. Pre-cum beaded at the tip, and I used my thumb to spread it over the head, creating a smooth glide that pulled a muffled groan from him.

“Fuck,” he gasped against my lips, breaking the kiss to draw a ragged breath. “Your hand…”

“Do you like it?” I asked, continuing my exploration, learning what made his breath hitch, what drew those delicious sounds from his throat. “Not bad for an amateur, huh?”

“You know I do,” he growled, his hips jerking upward into my grip. “But this isn’t just about me.”

“No,” I agreed, increasing my pace slightly. “It’s about both of us. About what we both need.”

His eyes darkened further, something primal and possessive flashing in their depths. “And what exactly do you need, little mouse?”

“You. What I need is you inside me before I literally die of horniness, which would be the most embarrassing cause of death ever,” I said, rising up on my knees to position myself over him.

The blunt head of his cock pressed against my entrance, not yet breaching but promising everything I craved.

“I need this. Inside me. All of you. Please.”

I began to lower myself, desperate to feel him stretch me open, to take him deep inside where the emptiness ached the worst. But just as the tip of him started to push into me, his hands gripped my hips with bruising force, stopping my descent.

“No,” he said, his voice strained with the effort of control.

Confusion and hurt flashed through me. “What? No? Why not?” After everything—the kissing, the touching, the clear desire on both sides—he was still refusing me? “Please, I need this. I need you.”

“No,” he said, his jaw clenched tight, muscles straining with the effort of restraint.