Page 58 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings (Alpha Mafia Kings #1)

Mr. Storm’s hands settled on my hips, his eyes dark with renewed hunger as he guided me down onto his length. I sank down with a gasp, taking him to the hilt in one smooth motion.

“That’s it,” Mr. Storm encouraged, his thumbs brushing over my hip bones. “So perfect for us.”

“I think your definition of ‘perfect’ needs work,” I managed, though the words lacked their usual bite. “Most people want ‘quiet’ and ‘obedient’ in their omegas. Not… whatever this disaster package is.”

Before I could adjust to the fullness, I felt Mr. Iceflare’s presence behind me, his heat radiating against my back as he pressed close. His hands splayed across my shoulder blades, pushing me forward until my chest was flush against Mr. Storm’s, my face buried in the crook of his neck.

“Relax,” Mr. Iceflare murmured against my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “We’ve got you.”

The implication hit me a moment before his finger pressed against my already filled entrance, circling the stretched rim where Mr. Storm’s cock disappeared into my body. My eyes widened in realization.

“Oh, hell no,” I yelped, trying to squirm away but effectively pinned between their powerful bodies. “That’s not— You can’t— There’s not enough room!”

“Shhh,” Mr. Storm soothed, his hands stroking my sides in calming patterns. “We won’t hurt you. Trust us.”

Trust isn’t exactly my strong suit , I thought as Mr. Iceflare worked me open with surprising patience, his finger sliding in alongside Mr. Storm’s cock, stretching me further. By the time he deemed me ready, I was a trembling mess, my body caught between fear and desperate anticipation.

The first press of his cock against my already filled entrance had me tensing, a whimper escaping despite my best efforts to remain silent. Mr. Storm’s hands cupped my face, forcing me to meet his gaze as Mr. Iceflare began to breach me with agonizing slowness.

“Look at me,” Mr. Storm commanded softly, his thumbs brushing away tears I hadn’t realized were falling. “Stay with us, little mouse.”

The burn was intense, bordering on too much as Mr. Iceflare pushed inexorably forward, his cock sliding in alongside Mr. Storm’s, stretching me beyond what I thought possible.

My body trembled with the effort of accommodating them both, sweat beading on my forehead as I panted against Mr. Storm’s neck.

I’m being split in two , I thought wildly, and somehow, I’m letting it happen. Somehow, I want it to happen. My brain is definitely filing for divorce from my body after this.

When Mr. Iceflare was finally seated to the hilt, both alphas’ cocks buried deep inside me, I felt impossibly full, stretched to my absolute limit. The sensation of being so thoroughly filled, of being claimed so completely, sent shivers racing through my entire body.

“Perfect,” Mr. Iceflare growled against my neck, his teeth grazing my scent gland. “Taking us both so beautifully.”

They began to move in tandem, one withdrawing slightly as the other thrust forward, never leaving me empty for even a moment.

The sensation was overwhelming—pleasure mixed with pain, submission tangled with resistance.

My mind struggled to process the dual invasion, the competing sensations, the sheer vulnerability of being stretched around both of them simultaneously.

It was incredibly overwhelming, caught between them with no escape.

Mr. Enigma watched from the side, his eyes tracking every expression that crossed my face, every reaction to their shared claiming. His hand moved lazily over his own cock, stroking in rhythm with their thrusts as he observed with intense focus.

“Look at him watching you,” Mr. Iceflare murmured, his voice strained with the effort of control. “See how much he wants you. How much we all do.”

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Mr. Enigma’s face, from the naked hunger in his eyes as he watched his brothers claim me. There was no jealousy in his observation, only satisfaction and anticipation—as though enjoying their shared pleasure.

The realization that they enjoyed watching each other take me, that my pleasure and submission were relished by each one of them, should have disgusted me. Instead, it sent another wave of heat through my system, my body clenching around both invading cocks.

What kind of omega was I, to respond this way? What kind of person found pleasure in being used so thoroughly by men who had built empires on violence and fear? I was definitely developing a concerning attraction to danger.

“He’s close,” Mr. Storm said, his hand wrapping around my neglected cock. “Look at him. So beautiful when he falls apart for us.”

The thought was lost as pleasure crested, washing over me in a wave that obliterated conscious thought.

I came with a broken cry, my release painting Mr. Storm’s chest in white streaks as my body convulsed around both alphas.

The rhythmic clenching pushed them both over the edge, Mr. Iceflare emptying himself inside me with a growl that vibrated through my entire body while Mr. Storm’s knot began to swell.

The sensation of Mr. Storm’s knot expanding while Mr. Iceflare was still inside me was indescribable—stretched beyond what I thought possible, filled so completely that there was no room for anything but sensation.

I trembled between them, overwhelmed by the physical and emotional intensity of what had just happened.

“I think you’ve broken me,” I mumbled against Mr. Storm’s chest, too exhausted for proper snark. “I’ll never be able to look at a sandwich the same way again.”

As we lay tangled together, waiting for Mr. Storm’s knot to subside, Mr. Iceflare pressed gentle kisses along my shoulder, his touch a stark contrast to the brutality of his earlier claiming. The tenderness in the gesture made my chest ache in ways I couldn’t blame on physical exertion.

Time blurred into a haze of pleasure and exhaustion as they continued to claim me throughout the night.

Mr. Iceflare took me against the wall, my legs wrapped around his waist as he drove into me with incredible force.

I half expected De Luca to send in a maintenance request form.

Reason for repair: Omega got fucked so hard he damaged infrastructure.

Mr. Enigma bent me over the small table bolted to the floor, the metal edge digging into my hips as he claimed me with relentless enthusiasm.

The fact that the table was bolted down suddenly made sense—not to prevent it from being used as a weapon, but to keep it from collapsing under the force of alpha sex.

Mr. Storm had me on my back, my legs over his shoulders as he stared into my eyes with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

His stormy gaze burned into mine, demanding a connection that went beyond the physical, beyond the moment.

It was as if he was trying to see into my soul, which was inconvenient because I’d locked that away years ago in a box labeled Do Not Open: Contains Emotional Fragility.

They used me in combinations I hadn’t known were physically possible, sharing me between them with a coordination that spoke of deep trust and understanding.

Through it all, they watched each other claim me with appreciation rather than jealousy, their eyes tracking every reaction, every expression, every moment of surrender.

“Look at him taking Mr. Storm so perfectly,” Mr. Enigma would murmur, his hand stroking my hair as Mr. Storm claimed me. “Made for this. Made for us.”

Made for this? I’m pretty sure the omega design specifications didn’t include ‘must accommodate multiple alpha cocks simultaneously,’ I thought, though my body eagerly accepted everything they gave me.

“Beautiful with your cock in his mouth,” Mr. Iceflare would say as Mr. Enigma fed his length between my lips. “Taking you so deep.”

“Perfect,” Mr. Storm would growl as Mr. Iceflare’s knot locked inside me. “Ours.”

Their praise, their observation, their shared possession should have made me feel used, objectified.

Instead, it created a strange sense of power—the knowledge that I could bring these dangerous men to their knees with nothing but my body and my submission.

That I could make mafia lords tremble with need, could reduce ruthless killers to tender caresses and whispered praise.

What did that make me? Not just a victim of circumstance, not just a captive omega, but something else entirely—something that both thrilled and terrified me. Someone who found pleasure in their possession, who craved their touch even knowing what their hands had done.

Apparently, trauma bonding came with amazing orgasms. They really should mention that in the psychology textbooks.

In a rare moment of gentleness, they arranged me in the center of the bed, all three surrounding me with their heat and scent. Mr. Iceflare’s fingers traced the bite marks on my neck, the bruises on my hips, the evidence of their possession written across my skin.

“Did we hurt you?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.

The question caught me off guard, the concern in his eyes at odds with the ruthless efficiency with which he’d claimed me earlier.

How could the same hands that had held me down with bruising force now touch me with such care?

How could the same mouth that had bitten hard enough to draw blood now press such gentle kisses to those very marks?

“I’ll survive,” I managed, aiming for flippant but landing somewhere closer to breathless. “Though I might need a wheelchair if you keep this up. Maybe one of those little bells to ring for service.”

Mr. Enigma’s laugh was warm against my neck, his arms tightening around my waist. “Our resilient little mouse,” he murmured, affection evident in his voice. “So strong. So perfect for us.”

Perfect for them. The words echoed in my mind, stirring a longing I hadn’t known existed alongside a fear that ran bone-deep.

Perfect for three alpha mafia lords who saw me as theirs.

Perfect for men who had built empires on blood and fear.

Perfect for a life I couldn’t begin to imagine and wasn’t sure I would survive.

My body, sated and exhausted, melted into their collective embrace even as my mind recoiled from the implications of their possessive care.

This was more than just sex, more than just biology or circumstance or necessity.

This was something deeper, something that threatened to rewrite everything I thought I knew about myself.

And that terrified me more than anything.

As my mind drifted toward exhaustion, Mr. Iceflare’s voice cut through the comfortable silence.

“Tomorrow night,” he said, his tone shifting from tender to commanding in an instant. His fingers traced idle patterns on my hip, the casual touch belying the weight of his words. “We’re leaving tomorrow tonight.”

I stiffened against him, suddenly alert. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said, little mouse.” His grip tightened fractionally, possessive rather than painful. “Our men have been in position for days. The compound’s security has weaknesses we’ve identified. Tomorrow night, we break out.”

Mr. Enigma’s chuckle vibrated against my back. “Did you think we’d just wait here forever for De Luca to use us as his breeding stock?”

“And you,” Mr. Storm added, his usually taciturn manner giving his words additional weight, “are coming with us.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. “I— What? No, I need to?—”

“You’re coming with us, Ty,” Mr. Iceflare interrupted, his ice-blue eyes locking with mine, allowing no argument. “Where we go, you go.”

It wasn’t a request or even a command—it was a statement of fact, delivered with such absolute certainty that it left no room for debate.

“My father,” I protested weakly. “De Luca still has my father. I can’t just?—”

“We’ll find him,” Mr. Enigma promised, his lips brushing against my shoulder. “Once we’re free, we have resources De Luca can’t imagine. We’ll find your father and bring him to safety.”

I wanted to believe them. God, how I wanted to. But trusting these men—these dangerous, powerful alphas who’d claimed me so thoroughly—felt like jumping off a cliff with no guarantee of a soft landing.

“Get some rest,” Mr. Iceflare murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple. “You’ll need your strength for tonight.”

As they continued to whisper plans and reassurances, I closed my eyes, feigning agreement while my mind raced. They were breaking free tonight. And they expected me to go with them, to trust them with my life, my future, my father’s safety.

I had hours, not days, to decide my next move.