"Oh, I think it needed exactly what we gave it," Stefano said, rising to his feet with that fluid grace that made something in my stomach flip even in my exhausted state. "And that was just the beginning, baby. We have all night to show you exactly where you belong."
That should have terrified me. Instead, some traitorous part of me was already looking forward to what came next, already craving more of their touch, their mouths, their praise.
"This doesn't mean anything," I said, needing to establish at least the pretense of resistance. "I'm only here because of the blackmail. Not because I want to be."
"Keep telling yourself that," Marco murmured against my ear, his arms tightening around me in a hold that feltdisturbingly like an embrace. "But your body knows the truth, even if your pride won't let you admit it yet."
fifteen
. . .
Leo lay sprawled between them, utterly debauched. Chest heaving, skin flushed and marked like territory claimed in battle. Harsh tent light caught the sweat on his skin, highlighting every vulnerable curve of his slender frame. His ass glowed crimson from Stefano's hand, the perfect handprint emblazoned like a brand on that pale flesh.
Stefano's jaw locked as he surveyed his prize. Every inch of exposed skin cataloged and memorized. The tremors in Leo's thighs, his spent cock flushed against his leg, the slick still leaking from his hole. The sight made Stefano's blood roar through his veins like a fucking hurricane.
Six months of surveillance had been torture. Six goddamn months watching Leo through screens, seeing him finger himself in darkness, hearing him moan their names while his fingers worked that tight little hole. Six months of watching him stroke his cock to completion while whispering Stefano's name like a forbidden prayer. The cameras had caught everything—every private moment, every desperate attempt to satisfy needs that only they could truly fulfill.
But cameras couldn't deliver his scent. Couldn't let Stefano taste the salt on his skin or feel the velvet heat of that tight hole clenching around his tongue. Reality was better than the digital tease they'd endured. Reality meant Leo's winter jasmine scent filling Stefano's lungs until thinking became secondary to the primal need to mount, claim, own.
Stefano's cock strained against his pants, throbbing with each beat of his heart. The memory of Leo coming apart moments ago, fighting surrender until his body betrayed him, made his canines ache with the need to sink into that perfect throat. Like breaking a wild animal that hadn't yet realized it was born for captivity, born for them.
"Look at him," Marco growled, fingers digging into Leo's hip hard enough to leave bruises. His thumb traced possessive circles where hip met waist. "Already recovering."
Matteo's silent observation missed nothing—the catch in Leo's breath when Marco touched him, the unconscious exposure of his throat, the flutter of his pulse point begging for a claiming bite. The quiet alpha tracked each reaction with predatory focus, calculating the precise pressure points where resistance would crumble.
Stefano fought against the savage urge to rip his clothes off and mount Leo like the animal his alpha instincts demanded he become. His cock leaked precum into his trousers, the head swollen and sensitive. The need to split Leo open on his length, knot him, flood him with cum until the omega's flat stomach distended with it—the urge clawed at his control like a feral beast.
Tonight was about breaking Leo first. Making him dependent on their touch, desperate for their approval, addicted to the pleasure only they could give him. The power imbalance was deliberate—they remained clothed, in control, while Leo lay naked and exposed between them, completely at their mercy.
This wasn't just fucking. This was psychological warfare. Making Leo crave them until his resistance became meaningless, until surrendering felt like his own idea instead of their victory. The most effective ownership was when the captive forgot they'd ever wanted freedom.
The forest had been just a taste. A sample of Leo's surrender that had haunted Stefano's dreams for months. The memory of that tight ass over his knee, resistance melting with each strike, slick soaking through the borrowed pants to coat Stefano's palm—it made his cock jerk with renewed hunger. The night they'd spent just holding Leo afterward, restraining themselves from taking what was already theirs by right, had been six months of sweet agony.
Leo's eyes fluttered open, confusion crashing into comprehension. The defiance that returned to those amber eyes made Stefano's alpha nature howl with anticipation. Breaking that spirit over and over would never get old.
"If you're expecting a standing ovation for that performance, I hate to disappoint," Leo rasped, voice wrecked from screaming their names. "On a scale of one to life-altering, that was maybe a six. Seven if I'm feeling generous."
Marco laughed, the sound dangerous as a blade against skin. "Our little prince is a terrible liar. Your body tells a different story, baby."
"My body's a traitor with questionable judgment," Leo snapped, though he made no move to escape their touch. "Like someone who keeps voting for politicians who actively work against their interests. Or investing in pyramid schemes after watching a twenty-minute video about 'financial freedom.' Zero integrity."
Stefano dragged rough fingers down Leo's chest, watching goosebumps rise in their wake. The war between Leo's mind and body was fucking delicious—his flesh responding even ashis mouth denied. Stefano circled one nipple, feeling it harden instantly, watching Leo bite his cheek to stop the moan building in his throat.
"Your mouth says one thing, but your body speaks the truth." He pinched the hardened bud, twisting just enough to make Leo's back arch involuntarily. "This is the honest part of you."
"Pop psychology from a mafia security. How novel," Leo snapped, gold-flecked eyes flashing with anger that didn't hide his arousal. "Did you get your degree from Criminals University, or is it just a hobby? Perhaps a side hustle between extortion rackets and kneecap collections?"
"His scent is changing again," Matteo growled, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply. "Arousal building despite the resistance."
The sweet notes in Leo's scent thickened in the air, becoming more complex, more potent. It filled the tent with an aroma that made Stefano's mouth flood with saliva, made his vision edge crimson with alpha need. His canines throbbed with the urge to claim, to mark, to own. His cock leaked steadily now, dampening his boxers with precum as his body readied itself to mount and breed.
Leo's eyes narrowed, defiance flashing despite his naked vulnerability. "Are you three seriously discussing my body's responses like I'm not even here? That's a new level of alpha presumption. Should I leave you alone with my pheromones? Maybe you'd prefer a jar of my sweat to analyze while I go take a nap somewhere with actual human decency."
The sarcasm hit Stefano's last nerve. His hand shot out, fingers tangling in Leo's hair as he crashed his mouth down on those smart lips. The sudden movement forced a startled gasp from Leo, his lips parting involuntarily—all Stefano needed to thrust his tongue inside, claiming that wet heat.
Leo's body went rigid with shock, his hands flying up to push against Stefano's chest, nails digging through the expensive fabric of his shirt. But as Stefano's tongue plundered deeper, tracing the roof of his mouth before tangling with Leo's own, that resistance faltered. A whimper vibrated in Leo's throat—a sound caught between protest and pleasure that Stefano swallowed greedily.
Stefano growled against Leo's mouth, the vibration making Leo shudder beneath him. He bit Leo's lower lip hard enough to sting without breaking skin, then soothed the abused flesh with his tongue. The taste flooded his senses—winter jasmine and honey mingled with the lingering saltiness of his earlier release, a combination so perfect it made Stefano's cock throb painfully.
