Designed for it. Like I’m some kind of omega sex toy custom-made for alpha pleasure. Though the way my body is responding, maybe that’s not entirely wrong.
The dual sensation—his hand still stroking my cock while his other played with my nipple—had me writhing against him, my head falling back against his shoulder. His fingers rolled and pinched the sensitive flesh until it was a hard peak, sending electricity straight to my groin.
That’s when I felt Stefano’s mouth against my neck, his lips finding the spot just below my ear where my pulse hammered frantically. His teeth scraped against the sensitive skin before he bit down, not hard enough to break skin but enough to mark.
“Ah!” I gasped, my hips bucking into his grip as the sharp pain-pleasure shot straight to my cock. “What are you?—”
His mouth moved to another spot, sucking hard enough to bruise, his tongue soothing the sting before his teeth found purchase again. He was marking me deliberately, methodically, claiming every inch of my neck with his mouth.
“I want to taste him,” Marco said, his gaze fixed hungrily on where Stefano’s hand moved on my cock. His pupils were blown, his breathing ragged, and I could see him fighting for control with every breath. “Please.”
Taste me. Oh hell. I’m about to get my first blow job from a mafia alpha while being held captive by his boss. This is definitely not how I pictured my sexual awakening going.
The request wasn’t directed at me but at Stefano, as if I had no say in what happened to my own body. Before I could protest, Stefano’s hand stilled, his grip tightening just enough to make me gasp in frustrated need.
“Would you like that, Leo?” he asked, his voice deceptively gentle despite the iron control I could hear beneath it. “Wouldyou like to feel Marco’s mouth on you while I hold you? While I mark this pretty throat?”
The image his words conjured sent another wave of slick pulsing from my body. My traitorous imagination immediately supplied vivid details despite my complete lack of experience—Marco’s hot mouth engulfing me, the wet heat, the suction, all while Stefano continued marking my neck.
This is insane. I shouldn’t want this. I should be horrified, not imagining what his mouth will feel like around my cock.
“I—I don’t—” I couldn’t form a coherent sentence, couldn’t marshal my thoughts against the overwhelming need coursing through me and the skilled fingers still wrapped around my cock.
“Yes or no,” Stefano pressed, his thumb circling the head of my cock in slow, maddening circles, spreading the precum gathered there. “It’s a simple question.”
Simple. Right. Nothing about this situation is simple. Nothing about the way my body is responding makes sense.
But the need for release had become so desperate, so all-consuming, that rational thought was nearly impossible. My omega biology was screaming for more alpha attention, more touch, more everything.
“Yes,” I finally whispered, the word torn from me. “Yes, please.”
I just gave permission for a blow job from my kidnapper. Rock bottom has a basement, apparently.
Marco’s smile was pure predator as he leaned forward, his breath hot against my exposed cock. “So polite,” he murmured, his voice rough with barely leashed desire. “Such a good little omega.”
Before I could bristle at the condescension, his mouth closed around the head of my cock, and every thought in my head evaporated.
The sensation was overwhelming—his tongue swirling around the sensitive head, lips stretching around my girth as he took me deeper. His mouth was hot and wet and perfect, nothing like the clinical descriptions I’d read in books. This was pure sensation, pure pleasure that short-circuited my brain completely.
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. This is what I’ve been missing? No wonder people write poetry about this.
Marco’s tongue flattened against the underside of my cock as he sank down, taking me deeper until I hit the back of his throat. The tight, wet heat had my vision whiting out at the edges, my hands scrabbling for purchase on Stefano’s arms.
“That’s it,” Stefano encouraged, his voice rough with his own arousal as he returned to marking my throat, his teeth finding a new spot to claim. “Let us take care of you.”
Marco began to move, his mouth working up and down my length with devastating skill. His tongue traced the thick vein on the underside before curling around the head, the combination of suction and wet pressure making me see stars.
When he hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard while his tongue worked that spot just under the head, I nearly came right there. My hips bucked up involuntarily, driving deeper into his mouth.
“Easy,” Stefano murmured, his hand on my chest holding me still while his mouth continued its assault on my neck. “Let him work. He knows exactly what he’s doing.”
Of course he knows what he’s doing. Probably had plenty of practice on other captive omegas. Though right now, I don’t care about his experience level because whatever he’s doing should be illegal.
Marco pulled back until just the head remained between his lips, his tongue swirling around the sensitive tip before he sank down again, taking me so deep I could feel his throatconstricting around me. The sensation was indescribable—tight and hot and wet, his throat working around me as he swallowed. The rhythm he set was perfect—long, slow strokes that had me trembling, punctuated by moments where he’d focus on the head with devastating precision.
“Stop staring,” I gasped at Matteo, who was still watching every expression that crossed my face. “I can’t—when you look at me like that?—”
“Like what?” Matteo asked, his amber eyes dark with hunger. “Like you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen? Because you are. Especially like this, falling apart for us.”
