My EX's Mafia Twin

PROLOGUE II: His.

PROLOGUE II: His.

Katarina.

|Past|

24 years old.

I’m drunk… so f*****g drunk.

I feel my feet moving across the floor like I’m walking on fluffy cotton.

My body sways from side to side, the vodka bottle hugged to my chest as I hum the song playing on the speakers.

I don’t even remember why I’m like this.

A fight with my mom?

A hit from my dad?

More secret conversations between them?

My family giving me the cold shoulder?

Some asshole trying to cross the line?

Lately, everything leads me to the same thing: holding this beautiful bottle in my hands.

I keep swaying, here and there, here and there, back here again.

A sweet downfall.

Without stopping my drunken sway, I lift the bottle and look at my reflection.

Katarina, you’re beautiful. The perfect ice princess. Then why do I feel like I’m falling apart inside?

My smile feels watery, and when a small tear rolls down my cheek, I tilt my face to wipe it with my shoulder. Before I can, a hand comes from my right and grabs my jaw in a firm grip, and lips press against my ear.

“These are mine only,” a husky voice growls just before a warm tongue catches my salty drop, swallowing it.

My breath catches in my chest, and I turn my face until our noses brush.

“Reid…”

“Here I am,” he says, almost bitterly, “your faithful knight in shining armor.”

I’m so drunk that I hear Killian’s sarcasm in Reid’s voice.

“What are you doing here?”

“You sent me a text,” he reminds me.

Makes perfect sense; that’s what I always do.

I get drunk, call Reid, we get even more drunk, and end up in a bed full of mistakes.

What the hell am I doing with my life right now?

Someone on the dance floor bumps into me and I stumble, crashing into Reid, which makes me laugh and him growl in annoyance.

Oops.

“f**k,” he murmurs, then grabs my forearm roughly and starts dragging me out of there.

That’s new, because usually he ends up getting even drunker with me.

I follow him, laughing like a maniac as this abrupt man drags me like I’m a nuisance instead of his new plan for fun.

“I thought we were gonna get even more drunk.”

“Get in the car, Katarina,” he pushes me against the back seat, opening the door himself with his free hand, not waiting for my driver. I fall face-first onto the seat and find it so funny that I start laughing like a maniac again.

I laugh and laugh, ignoring Reid’s annoyed huffs as he climbs in next to me.

Now I’m irreversibly happy.

Today I can pretend even better that it’s Killian.

For the first time, my drunk mind is doing an almost perfect job.

I clumsily straighten myself against the seat, the vodka bottle somehow not slipping from my fingers, so I hug it tighter, happy because it gives me sweet ignorance.

I lift the bottle to my lips, but Reid’s hand comes out and snatches it, then throws the bottle out the window, not caring if it hits someone on the way.

I blink, watching his outburst.

Then I burst out laughing.

“I’m hallucinating,” I murmur and collapse against him, resting my cheek on his shoulder.

He lets out another annoyed growl, and I smile, drunkenly happy at his attitude.

I have him so close that my lungs fill with the spicy, musky scent he radiates. His rich aroma invades my lungs and spreads to every atom of my being. And there I am, seeking more of that scent, consuming it like an addict. I bury my face in the material of his leather jacket and inhale.

He even smells like Killian.

“f**k off, Katarina,” he growls when I climb up his neck, burying my face in the hollow that carries more of his scent. I could get drunk on this, I could live forever in this fantasy.

I laugh again and somehow roll over him, straddling his lap. All of this in search of more contact, craving more touch.

Mmm…

Tentatively, I slide my hands inside his jacket; then I slip under the fabric of his shirt, and my fingers trace firm, tense muscles. His skin is warm and soft, though he remains still and rigid beneath me.

When I lift my gaze, I find the rage—almost hatred—in his eyes, but I also feel his erection pressing against my ass.

“That would be the first time,” I say.

“What?” he growls at me like a rabid dog, and I laugh again, pressing my forehead against his to feel him closer.

“The first time you get hard this easily.”

“Shut the f**k up,” and though his voice is only a whisper against my lips, it somehow comes out full of hot, red anger.

I smile and part my lips to softly test his.

He doesn’t move, his arms flaccid at his sides, his body still tense under mine… but he doesn’t stop me either.

I go for more, tasting his mouth again. I take his lower lip in a slow, long suck, my spine shivering as I rock slightly against him. It tastes perfect; his lips are firm but pliable beneath mine. And when I move across his upper lip, holding it longer in my mouth to suck in slow pressures, a little growl vibrates in his chest where my fingers press to feel his heat.

And I keep slowly devouring his mouth, sucking those perfect lips over and over, without using my tongue; just savoring his unmoving lips, which neither encourage nor resist.

When I’ve had enough for a bit, I move to the corner of his mouth and plant a small kiss there, pausing a second to savor it. Then I go to the corner of his eye, which closes, letting me kiss it. I smile at his permissive gesture… and an inexplicable tenderness fills my chest.

My body feels hot, and everything about him feels perfect, right, and the most real I’ve ever had.

Wanting more kisses, I slide my hands out of his shirt and up his torso, my fingers testing his tense muscles over the fabric. I take my time with my caresses and finally leave my hands on his shoulders, seeking support to lift myself and bring my lips to his temple.

I pause for a second, caught in the moment and the perfect scent my mind conjures.

In my drunken state, I wonder if Reid is wearing Killian’s cologne today, or if it’s just my imagination recreating the one I’ve always wanted.

I smile against his skin, tracing the line of his hair with my lips. I descend with soft, tender touches over his forehead, his nose, the tip of his nose, until I’m back at his mouth.

“Are you high?” he asks, looking at me when I finally lean back.

I smile even more, staring into his dark eyes, darker than his usual brown I’m used to. His long, messy brown hair gives him that wild look that’s always fascinated me… only in Killian.

And every time something escapes his lips, the fantasy feels more real.

“Maybe,” I respond, “because it never felt like this.”

Groping, I find his hand and bring it to my face, wrapping my cheek with his touch.

I close my eyes and lean into that gesture, not letting go even when he tries to pull his hand away. With a firm hold, I keep his skin against mine and take refuge in his neck, where that scent remains.

And I lull myself there, lost in a fantasy, wishing it were real.

|…|

I open my eyes when I feel him place me on a bed. In the darkness of my room, lit only by the moonlight through the large window, I see Reid’s silhouette above mine. He adjusts the pillows, seeking my comfort, all in silence, as if he doesn’t want me to wake.

“Wait…” I say as he tries to move away.

“Go to sleep already.”

“Then come…”

“I swear to God, Katarina,” he says, exasperated, glaring at me angrily, “what are you? A child?”

I just smile and grab his hand, pulling him onto the bed and quickly straddling him to keep him from leaving.

I laugh at the look of annoyance on his face.

“What’s so funny, ice princess?”

“What my mind can do,” I reply.

“You’re completely wasted.”

I shrug at his words, because it doesn’t matter, he may not even be real.

I settle more comfortably on his stomach, my thighs on either side of him. Without looking away from my hands, I softly explore his chest, tracing my fingers over the white fabric of his shirt. He’s no longer wearing the jacket, which lets me feel him more freely.

“Is something wrong with me?” I ask, not stopping the random patterns I’m drawing on his chest.

“Now I’m a drunk’s therapist,” he whispers lowly. “Something’s wrong with everyone, Katarina, but if you told me exactly why you’re asking, I could give you an answer.”

He’s so rude, yet I find myself opening up to him.

“I was always told to be perfect, to keep my emotions only for the camera. The less I feel, the better…”

“Makes sense.”

“Then why do I still feel so much inside?”

“Being an ice princess doesn’t mean your heart is too.”

I lift my eyes to his, his words echoing in me.

“And that’s wrong?”

“It’s what it is,” he says with a shrug. “There’s no point in trying to change or go against the current, you just need to embrace who you are. Everything will be easier once you accept yourself.”

He makes it sound easy… and I almost believe him.

But the truth is, when my whole life was instilled with an indifference that’s consuming me, it’s hard to go against that.

Especially because of him.

Because of him.

If I drop the mask, if I let my feelings surface, then I’ll be weak for Killian.

And he would tear me to pieces; he would break me into little pieces.

I close my eyes and sigh, so many emotions pulling me in every direction.

“Will you hug me?”

“I don’t know how,” is his answer.

“You don’t know?” I look into his eyes, and he looks so much like Killian that I keep pretending it’s him. “It’s very easy.”

“Not for me.”

“Just wrap me in your arms, like this…” I say, taking his hands and helping him encircle me.

I never thought a hug could be so hard to achieve, but somehow he makes it a complicated task. His arms are tense and his whole body is rigid, which makes me laugh even harder at his discomfort.

His jaw moves in a sharp tic-tac, and that gesture captivates me so much that I don’t even think before leaning forward and tracing that firm muscle with my tongue.

His hands tense more on my back, clenching into fists, his fingers grabbing my long hair in a firm grip, making me gasp as he pulls hard. The rough movement pulls my face back, exposing my neck to his warm breath.

“That’s not a hug,” I whisper, staring at the ceiling, waiting for his next move.

There.

My eyes close as his mouth opens against my pulse, sucking my skin hard, heating me from the inside out, so deliciously good.

His mouth is rough and urgent; he sucks on my skin with his mouth open and slides his tongue along the entire curve of my neck.

I gasp at his actions. He’s so primitive and possessive, it gives me goosebumps.

His mouth stops at my jaw and nips the skin briefly with his teeth, making me shiver again. And he sucks, bites, and kisses until he’s satisfied, but I don’t get satisfied so easily, not by him.

When he tries to pull away, I twist my fingers into his hair, lift myself, and press my chest right against his mouth.

His hot breath blows on my n****e, but he doesn’t try to take it into his mouth.

So I do it for him.

I pull back, his hands sliding down in a caress from my back to my hips, and he looks at me with dark eyes as I pull off my shirt, undo my bra, and lean back in, pressing my chest to his mouth.

And he still doesn’t suck me.

With a new boldness, I take my breast in my hand and slowly guide it closer to his mouth, until his wet lips brush my n****e.

I shiver, throwing my head back at that simple touch.

His warm breath gives me goosebumps, and I’m a puddle between my legs.

I grind against his stomach, seeking friction, but it’s not enough, so I slide my hand inside my skirt, push my panties aside, and shamelessly rub my wet p***y against the firm muscles of his stomach. I feel how I wet his shirt, his hands on my hips clenching until they hurt, but I don’t care, not one bit, especially when his mouth opens and finally… finally takes my breast in, sucking and licking it like a starving man.

"Goddamn you for making me feel desire," he growls angrily before using his fingers to take almost my entire breast into his mouth, pressing the plump skin of my tit so it fits in one hungry bite. His other fingers attend to the other breast, stretching my n****e until it hurts. His mouth feeds on my breast with such dominance that I could come from this alone.

But I need it.

I need him.

"Killian," I moan silently to the ceiling, making sure he doesn’t hear.

He takes my breasts in his hands and squeezes them, then proceeds to kiss them more gently. He sucks one n****e and then the other, with wet movements that stretch my skin, driving me insane.

Desperate like never before, I move between us and search for his zipper, but when I start to pull him out, he suddenly spins me around and slams my face into the bed, climbing on top of me.

"Ah," I moan, his hand wrapping around my hair like a leash, tilting my head back.

"Do you want my c**k?" he whispers against my ear.

"Please."

"Where?" he asks, ripping my panties to thrust superficially against my ass.

"Please," I repeat, trying to look behind me, but his grip on my hair tightens and stops me.

"Where do you want me?" he repeats, leaning down to bite one cheek of my ass so hard I scream. "Where, Katarina?"

The way he says my name, how he savors it on his tongue and repeats it more times than normal in every sentence thrown at me, I love it.

"In your ass?" he keeps asking, suddenly sliding his thumb along the crack of my ass. "In your p***y? In your sweet little mouth?"

"Anywhere," I cry, desperate.

He murmurs a pleased nod behind me and lowers his chest to my back to whisper in my ear, "Now give me those tears, because you’re not allowed to cry in any other situation, do you understand?"

And suddenly he plunges not one, not two, but three fingers into me.

I bite the sheet, my eyes spilling tears as those fingers f**k me. He’s like an animal, possessed by something carnal as he hammers my p***y roughly, taking my pleasure as if punishing me for something I have no idea about.

"Say my name," he growls in my ear, pulling his fingers out only to thrust them back in.

I shake my head.

No.

"Say my name," he growls again, adding another hard thrust that makes me bounce against the bed.

And this time the tears fall harder than before, because this is a fantasy, and saying his real name would ruin it.

"Say my name, Katarina!"

"No!" I cry.

"Say it!"

"Rei… —" His mouth swallows his own name, and I thank him for that, because I couldn’t bear it.

He kisses me with rage, and I kiss him back. His fingers keep thrusting harder than before, and just as my body starts trembling from the orgasm, he spins me, spreads my legs… and eats my p***y like a maniac.

I scream, bending into him to scratch his back with my nails. His mouth sucks my clit and moves his face from side to side, tearing my p***y apart in a way that shreds me too. I wet his jaw, his mouth, and his nose; his fingers spread me, and he kisses me obscenely, lifting his eyes to meet mine as he defiles my body.

I rake my nails in a hard caress until I grab his hair, lost in desire. He grabs my ass and lifts me to his mouth, almost pulling me off the bed to sink deeper into my p***y. And he penetrates me with his tongue, sliding along my entire seam, opening my lips with a long caress, until he hooks onto my clit and sucks it in repeated strokes.

I look at him, seeing him addicted to my p***y, while I save that image for my future fantasies.

Finally, he sucks my lips, first one and then the other, stretching them as far as possible until they snap back into place with a loud smack.

It hurts—my p***y hurts from his rough treatment—but I love it. The carnal, almost obsessive desire he shows is something I’ve never felt before. And he has me right there, on the edge of a strange orgasm.

Suddenly, he gets off the bed and, pointing to the floor, growls, "On your knees."

I shake my head, confused.

"Now, Katarina."

I do it, disoriented by the sudden denial of orgasm but captivated by his now naked body. I move toward him and slowly fall to my knees.

"Open your mouth."

Again, I just obey.

I keep my mouth open as he takes two steps forward and, without any foreplay, pushes himself into my mouth. His hand tangles in my hair and moves my head: forward, back, forward, back, sinking deep into my throat.

He’s not considerate or respectful; he’s selfish, thinking only of his own pleasure as he goes in and out of me… but that’s exactly what turns me on.

His pleasure over mine.

I control my gag reflex from his size.

He guides his c**k into my mouth until my nose presses into his groin, and tears stream from my eyes.

I want more; I want him to come for me. But he thrusts one, two, three more times and pulls out of my mouth without giving me his c*m. Instead, he grabs my forearm and pushes me against the dresser until my elbows rest on the wood. Then I feel him position himself behind me.

"Look at me," he demands, and I do: I look at him through the mirror. "I want you to look at me at all times, I want you to see who’s claiming you. Because I am. I’m claiming you, Katarina. Your mouth, your p***y, your ass. You’re mine, f*****g mine, and tonight I’m not going to pretend otherwise."

He sinks into my p***y from behind, but this time he’s not rough; this time he goes deliberately slow, keeping his eyes locked on mine as he stretches me with his size.

It burns, and it feels different from everything else.

I feel every delicious, thick inch as he f***s me with the most perfect c**k I’ve ever had.

His lips part and he breathes through his mouth. He tightens his grip on my hips and moves me backward, pushing us together until he’s completely seated inside me.

Shit.

The predatory look on his face, the stretch of having him inside me, and the heat of his body against mine is the best I’ve ever had.

"Perfect," he whispers against my shoulder, leaving a kiss far too soft and tender on my skin.

My eyes flutter, wanting to close from the pleasure of having him inside me, but his gaze holding mine won’t let me, especially when he starts his thrusts. His hand on my hip, the other in my hair, both acting as levers, arching my body back as he drives into me with long, slow thrusts. His groin slams into my ass in hard, forceful hits.

"Look at me, ice princess," he whispers in my ear. "Look at me f*****g you."

I do; I look at him, I look at myself, we look at each other… f*****g perfect.

Killian.

Killian.

Killian.

I moan in my mind over and over, his thrusts ripping sighs from me and marking me from the inside, taking s*x to a whole different level of pleasure.

Then he spits; I feel the saliva fall on my ass and, immediately, his finger playing at my forbidden entrance.

My eyes go wide as plates, and his dark gaze still doesn’t release me while his thumb probes my tense ring.

"I told you I’d claim you all, your ass too."

"No one’s been there."

He presses his thumb a little, inserting just the tip, making me tremble under his hard control.

I look at him through the mirror, nervous.

"Relax."

But I can’t, and noticing it, he slides his other hand under his c**k, still buried inside me. With a quick flick of his wrist, he presses the heel of his hand against my clit, grinding it almost sweetly.

I fall against the dresser, resting my cheek on the cold wood.

He spits a little more, lubing my hole even more. And while the heel of his hand teases my clit with soft strokes, his c**k buried up to the base inside me, he slides his thumb into my ass.

It stings, but I come, wetting his hand and his c**k with my arousal.

I look at him through the mirror. The pleased, possessive, almost sublime expression on his face as he pulls that perfect orgasm from me is something I’d never want to miss.

"Your p***y is perfect, baby."

"Only with you."

"Only mine."

I hum a meaningless response, already half gone, but then he takes my hands behind me and places them on my cheeks, making me open my ass obscenely.

I’d blush if I had the strength to, more from his hungry gaze, but I’m clay in his hands. He can shape me however he wants, and I don’t care.

"Keep it like that," he commands, and I do; I stay open for him.

Then he starts opening the dresser drawers, as if looking for something, until he finally finds it.

I watch as he pulls out a jar of lube I’d forgotten I had, pours an exorbitant amount on my ass, and then his finger begins its game.

He sinks it in slowly, moving it bit by bit, probing my inner walls, then thrusting with patience. In and out, in and out, pulling it out just to push it back in again.

"Your p***y is tightening around my c**k while my finger f***s your ass. You love this, don’t you?"

"Mmmm," I moan, closing my eyes.

"Eyes on me, Katarina."

As if I were born to obey his orders, my eyes open and find his face through the mirror, but he’s looking at what he’s doing, preparing my ass to claim me.

When I start to adjust to his size, he adds another finger. My back arches and a surprised cry escapes me, his c**k throbbing still inside me.

A hard slap lands on my ass and his teeth scrape across my shoulder, almost breaking the skin.

"I want to mark every inch of you, f**k. Consume you and own you until you’re absolutely clear who you belong to."

And as he pulls his fingers out of me at the same time his c**k slips out of my p***y, I feel him move something thicker and bigger to my ass, not pushing, just teasing my prepared hole.

"I’m sure this is going to hurt," he warns me. His voice is rough, but when his hand drops to my p***y and he traps my clit between his thumb and forefinger, pressing both fingers on the sides of that little button, he’s gentle—almost tender—as he moves that tiny piece of flesh.

" Kiss me," I beg, turning my face to ask for his mouth.

He brings his mouth down to mine at the same time the head of his c**k pushes forward, crossing the barrier until it slides into me… and he kisses me.

My mouth opens in a scream, and he sucks my bottom lip while I wrestle with the new sensations.

He pushes a few more centimeters while I cry out, letting tears escape that he gathers with his tongue.

"You’re too big."

"My c**k was made exclusively for you, Katarina, so it’s going to fit. All of it."

And it does.

He goes all the way in as his hand slaps my p***y hard.

I scream and cry.

And I don’t know if it’s from the orgasm he’s ripping from me, the burn of his c**k entering my ass, or because I’m out of my mind, experiencing sensations beyond my comprehension, but I feel myself lose consciousness for a few moments. When I come back, he’s still behind me, inside me, motionless, caressing my hair with a tenderness I’ve never known before.

"Are you okay, baby?" he asks, his lips against my temple.

"f**k me," I beg.

And he does.

And, f**k, does he do it well.

His hand comes out and grabs my throat, pushing me back against his chest, my hands still between us to keep my ass open for him.

And our reflection in the mirror is perfect, so perfect.

I can’t take my eyes off us as he f***s me.

Thrust after thrust, he claims me completely.

He doesn’t stop looking at us either, drunk on such a perfect view.

"Are you going to come again?" he asks, adjusting his grip on my throat until it cuts off my breath a little.

I nod, because yes, I will come again.

I will come again.

"Then do it," and lowering his hand to my p***y, he grinds it against my clit while thrusting his hard c**k in my ass over and over and over again.

I stare at us. Tears stream down my face as his eyes are darker than ever, always locked on mine while he owns me.

And I come at the same time he does.

Killian, I moan in my mind, always thinking of him, because otherwise it couldn’t work.

My perfect lover lowers his lips, never taking his eyes off mine, and bites my neck.

Hard.

I scream, and another orgasm washes over me as he empties himself deep inside me, murmuring obscenities in my ear, still grinding my p***y and depositing his c*m deep within me.

When his hand releases my throat, the other still caressing my p***y, I collapse against him like a lifeless body.

He carries me quickly to the bed, laying me down with a certain tenderness.

I look at him with drowsy eyes, my head shifting on the pillow so I don’t lose sight of him as he bends down to suck my n****e. I sigh when he moves lower to suck on my clit in wet and tender pulls.

He finally returns to my mouth, kissing me wildly while his tongue penetrates me and plays with mine.

I tangle my fingers in his hair and deepen the kiss, wishing it would never end.

"Tomorrow you’re going to feel me all day in your ass, in your p***y, and in your pretty little mouth," he murmurs in a very low voice. "My c*m marked you where no one else has ever been. And if you let someone else touch you again… f**k, Katarina, I will hate you and you’ll make me hate him even more. And you don’t want that, I swear."

"What?"

"I’ll wage war on him and tear him to pieces," he grabs my jaw tightly, making me look at him. "And I won’t feel a shred of remorse for it."

"I don’t understand you," I whisper; the alcohol and the orgasms were too much—they left me so exhausted it’s hard to process what he’s saying.

He lowers his forehead to mine and murmurs in a very soft voice, "I’m not afraid to embrace my obsession with you, because the ones who should be scared are them… but not you, never you, ice princess."

He drags his hand down my body to cup my v****a, caressing it with the softest touch possible. I tilt my neck for him when he buries his face against my skin, his nose pressing gently over my pulse as if he needed to feel my life.

And he lets me curl against him as I slip into oblivion, right before he growls a promise:

"I will burn the world for you and mark my name on your skin with the ashes."