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Page 42 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings (Alpha Mafia Kings #1)

fifteen

. . .

“Come here, little mouse,” Mr. Enigma said. “Let me show you what you’ve been missing.”

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t been missing anything for the past twenty minutes,” I retorted, though my traitorous legs were already carrying me toward him with magnetic precision. “Unless there’s some secret alpha technique you’ve been hiding in your back pocket alongside your ego.”

“Oh, there’s plenty I’ve been holding back,” Mr. Enigma assured me, his voice dropping to a register that made my skin prickle with heightened awareness.

The rut-induced scent rolling off him overwhelmed my senses completely, the spicy-sweet aroma intensified to apocalyptic levels with something darker and more primal underneath. “Get on your hands and knees.”

“Demanding much?” I said, though I was already moving into position with complete surrender to my hormones. “Do I get a please with that order? Maybe a thank-you card afterward?”

“Please,” Mr. Enigma amended with a predatory grin, “get on your hands and knees so I can fuck you until you forget your own name. Better?”

“Your manners are improving,” I acknowledged, settling into the requested position while trying to ignore how eager my body was for whatever came next. “Gold star for effort. We’ll make a gentleman out of you yet.”

My attempt at nonchalance probably lost all credibility considering my arms were trembling uncontrollably.

The position left me completely exposed, my ass in the air, presenting to Mr. Enigma while facing Mr. Storm.

It was possibly the most vulnerable position imaginable, the main attraction at an alpha feast. Mr. Iceflare moved to sit beside the bed, those ice-blue eyes never leaving my face with penetrating intensity.

“Beautiful,” Mr. Enigma murmured, his hands landing on my hips with bruising force. His fingers dug into my flesh hard enough to leave marks by morning. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“If your standards of beauty include ass-up omegas, you really need to visit a museum sometime,” I quipped, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the breathless quality of my voice and the fact that my body was eagerly preparing itself for what was to come.

“Broaden your horizons beyond the pornographic.”

His laugh was warm against my back as he leaned over me, his chest pressing against my spine in a way that made me feel simultaneously trapped and protected. The hard planes of his muscles formed an inescapable cage, reminding me that despite the playfulness, I was at the mercy of an apex predator.

“My horizons are perfectly broad, thank you,” he said, his breath hot against my ear. “And right now, they’re filled with the most gorgeous view imaginable.”

Mr. Enigma positioned himself at my entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against me without actually breaching. The pressure was both promise and threat, my body simultaneously craving and bracing for what was coming.

“So ready for me,” he growled, teasing his cockhead against my entrance in a motion that had me biting my lip to prevent embarrassing sounds from escaping.

He prepared himself, creating obscenely intimate sounds that would haunt my dreams forever.

“For us. This oil really is something, isn’t it?

You’re practically melting for us. I can smell how much you want this, how much you need it. ”

“Thanks for the commentary,” I managed, trying to sound unaffected despite the way my body was sending desperate invitations for him to get on with it. “Maybe save the play-by-play for sports, not my bodily functions. Not all of us need a narration of the obvious.”

Instead of responding verbally, Mr. Enigma slammed forward in one brutal thrust that had me screaming.

The stretch was immediate and overwhelming, his rut-swollen cock splitting me open in a way that blurred the line between pleasure and pain.

My arms buckled beneath me, face pressing into the mattress as he buried himself to the hilt in one savage movement.

“FUCK!” I shrieked, my voice muffled against the sheets. “Holy shit—you can’t just—fucking hell!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Mr. Enigma snarled, his voice barely recognizable through the rut-driven growl. His hips were flush against my ass, his cock buried impossibly deep. “Besides, your body was made for this. Look how perfectly you’re taking me, squeezing me like you never want to let go.”

He was right, damn him. Despite the brutal entry, my treacherous body was already adjusting.

The oil was definitely working its dark magic, amplifying every sensation until I felt like I might combust from the inside out.

Each pulse of his cock inside me sent electric shocks racing up my spine, my nerve endings firing in chaotic patterns that short-circuited my brain’s sarcasm center.

“Move,” I demanded, pushing back against him impatiently despite feeling completely stuffed. “Unless you’re planning to just stay there all day as a permanent fixture.”

Mr. Enigma’s laugh vibrated through both our bodies. “So demanding,” he growled, drawing back until just the head remained inside me before slamming forward again with breath-stealing force. “I like it. Tell me what you want, little mouse. How you want it.”

“Harder,” I gasped before I could censor myself, the word torn from somewhere primal inside me that had abandoned all self-preservation. “Faster. More.”

“As you wish,” he replied, and then he was pounding into me with a ferocity that would have terrified me if I hadn’t been lost in pleasure and divorced from my survival instincts.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed through the room, a primal rhythm punctuated by my increasingly desperate cries.

The chain at his wrist rattled violently with each thrust, a metallic reminder that this was still a kidnapping situation, just with orgasms.

Each brutal drive of his hips sent me lurching forward, my knees skidding against the sheets as he claimed me with savage intensity.

The angle let him hit spots inside me I didn’t even know existed, sparking pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

My arms gave out completely, leaving my face pressed into the mattress, ass raised high as he used me with single-minded determination.

“Fuck— Please— Oh God—” I babbled incoherently, my usual witty comebacks obliterated by the overwhelming sensations. My body opened for him with each thrust, producing more natural lubrication than I thought possible.

From my position, I had a perfect view of Mr. Storm, who watched with dangerous intensity.

His stormy eyes tracked every expression that crossed my face, every reaction to Mr. Enigma’s relentless pounding.

His own interest was evident, his cock impossibly hard as he stroked himself with measured movements that belied the hunger in his gaze.

“Look at him watching you,” Mr. Enigma growled in my ear, his breath scorching against my skin as he draped his body over mine, changing the angle to drive even deeper.

“See how much he wants you. How much we all do. We’re going to ruin you, little mouse.

Mark you so thoroughly no one will ever doubt who you belong to. ”

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Mr. Storm’s face, from the naked hunger in his eyes that made me feel completely devoured.

There was something hypnotic about his focused attention, about the way he seemed to be memorizing every sound, every reaction, every flutter of pleasure that crossed my features.

“Suck him,” Mr. Enigma commanded, his voice dropping to a register that made my insides clench tight. “While I take you from behind. Show him how good that pretty mouth of yours feels.”

The suggestion, the image it conjured, sent another rush of heat through my body, responding with embarrassing eagerness. Being claimed by one alpha while pleasuring another? This was definitely not covered in Omega 101. More like Advanced Placement Omega Debauchery.

“You can’t be serious,” I managed, though my mouth was already watering at the prospect. “I can barely think straight with you doing… that. How am I supposed to multitask?”

“You’ll manage,” Mr. Enigma assured me, never slowing his punishing pace. “You’re remarkably adaptable, little mouse. It’s one of your many charms.”

Mr. Storm moved, the chain at his wrist stretching as he positioned himself in front of me. His cock was level with my face, angry red and swollen with rut, the head glistening with pre-cum. The invitation, or command, was clear without words being necessary.

“This is insane,” I said, though I was already leaning forward, drawn by some instinct deeper than rational thought. “I’m insane for even considering this.”

“Not insane,” Mr. Storm corrected. “Perfect.”

The simple praise shouldn’t have affected me as strongly as it did, but I found myself opening my mouth for him without further protest. The musky, masculine taste of him exploded across my tongue as he fed his cock between my lips with surprising gentleness given the obvious strain of his control.

The position was awkward at first, trying to maintain my balance while Mr. Enigma claimed me from behind and Mr. Storm filled my mouth from the front.

But somehow, we found a rhythm, a synchronicity that had me wondering if they’d done this before, if they’d shared omegas in the past.

The thought should have disturbed me, but instead, it sent another wave of heat through my system.

Being the center of attention between these powerful alphas, being wanted and claimed by both simultaneously, was doing things to my omega hindbrain that I would absolutely deny later when I had more than two functioning brain cells.