Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance(20)

Suddenly he's inside me. With a groan, I feel his weight shift, rocking magnificently toward my core. My ankle automatically loops behind his knee and I drag him further inside me. The taste on his tongue changes instantly into something muskier, deeper. Something that tastes like food. Something I've been so hungry for my whole life and didn't even know it.

I drink him in as he begins to slide, rolling himself against me, pushing deeper and deeper with every thrust. Though I want it to last forever, I also want to speed ahead.

“That’s it, Marie,” Alek grunts behind me. “Take him!”

I feel my insides go bright and hot. As Roman is thrusting, I roll myself into him, matching every motion with my own. Matching every kiss with my own.

My body is begging him for more. He finds the middle of me, pounding me into powder. Everything in my hips loosens as I make room to take all of him at once. I feel myself clasping at him, driving him deeper with every thrust.

And then suddenly, I'm coming like I never thought possible. My core explodes in a bright, sudden blaze. Colors and patterns. Fireworks and fire. I hear my voice from far away as I yelp into his mouth and the moment I do, he hilts himself in me in one magnificent, devastating thrust.

He roars into my mouth as his whole body tenses and arches. I think it hurts. I know that I can’t stand it, but somehow I do. Alek holds me around my middle and bellows a command I can’t understand. Somehow I disassemble myself and wrap myself around Roman, letting my body ride his until he spent within me.

Roman falls heavily on top of me, pinning me back to his brother and then the mattress below. We lay there like crash victims, all in a heap, lurid and obscene. I take a deep breath and kiss the musky seam of Roman’s neck as his head falls against my shoulder and he pants heavily. He is salty and dense and I inhale deeply. This scent, I’ve never smelled anything like it.

I don't know how I ever lived without it.

We all lay there for long seconds, breathing heavily until our heartbeats slow down. I'm so utterly exhausted, yet strangely energetic. I want to talk to them. I want to say something… Thank you? Maybe ask their last names? I want to tell them this is not at all what I expected. I thought it would be awful, and it turns out to be absolutely magical.

But I know that's absurd. You probably shouldn't just start babbling right at this moment, right?

After a few minutes, I realize I'm going to fall asleep if I don't do something. They probably want me to leave. I probably should leave. I think that's what people are supposed to do.

Pushing myself away from them, pulling apart swathes of skin that seem glued together, I slowly try to sneak off the bed. They’re both breathing heavily, almost snoring. It sounds like a bear’s hibernation den, and is just as musky.

I pad toward the bathroom in my bare feet, my thoughts tumbling over each other in my head like water over rocks. It feels like a dream. Like a crazy, utterly insane dream.

In the bathroom, I finally dare to turn on the light. I'm a little bit of a mess. My hair is crazy, sticking up diagonally from the left side of my head in knots and snarls. And yet, I can't help but feel proud of every weird kink in my hair, the black smudge of mascara under my eyes, the red streaks on my neck and breasts and arms and waist where I was kissed so hard they almost broke the skin.

I stare at myself for a few long seconds. Look at me, a new woman. Brand-new. In a strange way, I feel a sort of ownership over my body that I never felt before.

I take a quick moment to pee and clean myself up, wincing at the soreness that's already settling into the skin. I'm definitely going to be feeling that for a couple days.

But it was totally worth it. After swiping at my face with tissues and washing my hands, using my wet fingers to comb through my hair until I sort of look like myself again, I think I'm ready to do what I'm supposed to do next.

Opening the bathroom door slowly, I figure they’re probably asleep and I don't want to wake them. The light floods the room, tracing out a triangle on the patterned carpet. Carefully I tiptoe back to the bed, squinting to try to locate my dress and panties.

For some reason, I feel like I need to turn away when I get dressed. I slide my panties back on and knot the strings. It takes a moment to get the zipper all the way back up my dress but I manage it and then grab my handbag and shoes in one arm.

Turning around, I bite my lip and prepare a brief, dignified, whispered goodbye. Then I stop. My breath stalls in my throat. My heart beats twice, loud enough someone should have heard it, but they are still asleep.

Everything goes cold. There they are, laid out on the shiny satin bedspread, a tangle of arms and legs spread out and relaxed. The men I just slept with. Roman is closest. He's covered in tattoos from his knees, all the way up to just below his collarbone and then snaking down his arms. Shape after shape, layered on top of each other in strange patterns. Bones, spiderwebs. Words in Cyrillic characters. More words. Skulls. Is Alek the same? I can’t tell because I can’t look anymore. I have to stop.