Page 49 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings (Alpha Mafia Kings #1)

“Just so we’re clear,” I managed, trying to inject some semblance of my usual snark into my voice, “this doesn’t mean I’m joining your mafia book club or whatever. I still have a healthy sense of self-preservation despite current evidence to the contrary.”

Mr. Storm’s laugh was unexpected, the sound rusty as though rarely used. “Defiant even now,” he said, his stormy eyes warming slightly as they met mine. “Impressive.”

“It’s not defiance, it’s common sense,” I retorted, though the effect was somewhat undermined by the fact that I was quite literally locked on Mr. Iceflare’s knot, filled with his seed, and surrounded by all three alphas.

“Just because my body’s made some questionable decisions doesn’t mean my brain has completely abandoned ship.

It’s just taking a brief vacation. Probably went to Tahiti. I hear it’s nice this time of year.”

“Your body knows what it wants,” Mr. Iceflare said, his voice dropping to that register that made my insides do somersaults. “What it needs. Who it belongs to.”

“My body also craves burgers at two a.m. and thinks sleep is optional during stressful times,” I shot back, though my heart wasn’t really in the argument.

Not when his knot was still pulsing inside me, not when he was looking at me with such intense care.

“I don’t think we should trust its judgment on life-altering decisions. ”

After what felt like an eternity but was probably closer to nine minutes, Mr. Iceflare’s knot finally began to subside. The sensation of him slowly pulling out was almost as overwhelming as the initial penetration—leaving me feeling strangely empty, as though something essential had been removed.

Before I could even catch my breath, Mr. Enigma was moving into position, his green eyes dark with hunger but with something else flickering beneath the surface, something that made my stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with physical desire.

“My turn,” he announced, but instead of positioning himself between my legs as I expected, he moved to sit against the headboard, patting his thighs with a smile that was softer than his usual mischievous grin. “Come here, little mouse. I want to try something.”

“Let me guess,” I said, trying to maintain my usual snark despite the way my heart was still racing from my encounter with Mr. Iceflare. “You want me to ride you in some acrobatic position? Because I should warn you, I’m terrible at multitasking.”

His laugh was warm, genuine in a way that made something flutter in my chest. “Nothing so complicated. Just come here.”

I moved toward him on shaky legs, still marked by Mr. Iceflare’s claim. Mr. Enigma guided me to straddle his lap, facing him, my knees on either side of his hips. The position was unexpectedly intimate—face-to-face, chest to chest, his cock pressing against my entrance without yet breaching.

“This is…” I swallowed, finding it difficult to maintain my usual defensive humor with him looking at me with such intensity. “This is very up close and personal. Extremely intimate.”

“That’s the idea,” he replied, his hands coming up to cradle my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones with a tenderness that made my throat tight. “I want to see your eyes while I’m inside you.”

And then he was kissing me—not the demanding invasion I’d expected, but something slower, deeper, more deliberate. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, requesting rather than demanding entry, and when I opened to him, he explored my mouth with the same thoroughness he’d shown my body.

While our mouths were occupied in what was rapidly becoming one of the most intense kisses of my life, he positioned himself at my entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against me without yet pushing inside.

His hands remained on my face, holding me in place, ensuring I couldn’t look away as he slowly, carefully lowered me onto his length.

“Fuck,” I gasped against his lips as he filled me inch by excruciating inch. The angle was completely different from Mr. Iceflare’s claiming—deeper somehow, more intimate, his cock reaching places inside me that made stars explode behind my eyelids. “That’s— You’re?—”

“I know,” he murmured, his green eyes never leaving mine as he seated himself fully inside me. “I feel it too.”

He established a rhythm that was nothing like Mr. Iceflare’s controlled dominance—slow, deep thrusts that seemed focused more on connection than simple pleasure. His hands never left my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones, fingers tangled in my hair, keeping me anchored to the moment, to him.

“Stay with me, little mouse,” he murmured when I tried to close my eyes against the overwhelming intimacy. “Don’t hide from what you’re feeling.”

I wanted to deflect with a joke, to maintain the emotional distance I’d cultivated for so long, but the words stuck in my throat. There was something in his eyes, a vulnerability that mirrored my own, a question I wasn’t ready to answer but couldn’t ignore.

“I can’t,” I whispered, though my body continued to move with his, rising and falling in a rhythm that felt like surrender. “This is too much. It’s emotional free-falling.”

“It’s exactly enough,” he countered, his forehead pressing against mine as he maintained the slow, deep rhythm that was unraveling me from the inside out. “Let yourself feel it, Ty. Let yourself have this.”

The use of my actual name instead of “little mouse” hit me with emotional force, cracking something open inside me that I’d kept carefully sealed.

As he continued to move within me, his eyes never leaving mine, I felt something shift—a wall crumbling, a door opening, a truth I couldn’t run from anymore.

A tear escaped before I could stop it, sliding down my cheek in silent betrayal. Mr. Enigma caught it with his thumb, the tenderness in the gesture making my chest ache in a way I’d never experienced before.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” I admitted, my voice breaking as his hips rolled upward, hitting a spot that made me gasp. “This isn’t supposed to feel like this.”

“Like what?” he asked, his voice gentle but insistent, refusing to let me hide behind vague statements.

“Like… like it matters,” I whispered, the truth slipping out before I could stop it. “Like you matter. Like I matter. Like this is more than just fucking.”

His rhythm faltered for a moment, his eyes widening slightly at my honesty. Then he was kissing me again, deep and thorough, his body moving within mine with renewed purpose. Each thrust felt like a question and an answer simultaneously, each kiss a conversation without words.

My release built differently this time, not the explosive peak of before but something deeper, more profound, starting somewhere in my chest and radiating outward.

When it finally crashed over me, it wasn’t just physical pleasure but emotional catharsis, drawing a sound from my throat that was half moan, half sob.

Mr. Enigma followed me over the edge with a growl that vibrated through both our bodies, his knot swelling to lock us together as his release flooded me in hot pulses.

As we sat there, joined physically and something more, I felt my world tilting on its axis, everything I thought I knew about myself rearranging into something new and terrifying.

“What is happening to us?” I asked, the question torn from somewhere deep inside me that usually stayed locked behind several layers of sarcasm and emotional padlocks.

Mr. Enigma brushed the hair from my face with gentle fingers, his expression more serious than I’d ever seen it. “Something none of us expected,” he admitted. “Something that should be impossible but feels inevitable. Something profound.”

The truth of his words settled over me heavily. This connection forming between us wasn’t just biology or circumstance or necessity. It was something real, something that had caught all of us by surprise, something that would change everything. And I was completely unprepared.

When his knot finally subsided and he slipped from my body, I felt a loss that went beyond the physical, as though something essential had been removed, leaving a space I wasn’t sure could ever be filled again. Which was ridiculous because we’d known each other for such a short time.

Before I could process the feeling, Mr. Storm was there, his eyes darker than usual as he looked at me with an intensity that should have been frightening but somehow wasn’t.

He gathered me into his arms and arranged us on our sides, my back to his chest, his powerful body curled protectively around mine.

The position was unexpected, not the dominant claiming I’d anticipated, but something that felt almost…

tender. Protective and surprisingly gentle.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice smaller than I’d intended. Where was my usual snark when I needed it? Probably on vacation with my dignity and self-preservation instincts.

“Holding you,” he replied simply, his breath warm against my neck. “Protecting you.”

“From what?” I couldn’t help asking, though part of me already knew the answer.

“Everything,” he said, the single word carrying immense weight. “Including yourself.”

Before I could formulate a suitably cutting response about not needing protection, especially from myself, thank you very much, he was entering me from behind, his cock filling me in a smooth, careful thrust that felt more like coming home than invasion.

The angle was different again, not as deep as the others, but somehow more intimate, more enveloping.

His arm wrapped around me, hand coming to rest directly over my heart, feeling it race beneath his palm.

Unlike the others, Mr. Storm didn’t establish a fast rhythm or seek immediate pleasure.

Instead, he moved with deliberate slowness, each thrust careful and measured, as though learning me from the inside out with methodical precision.