3. ARE YOU THIS DESPERATE?

VIOLET

His lips were warm—shockingly warm—and softer than they had any right to be for a man who looked so hard and dangerous. For one terrifying second, he was completely still.

I sucked gently on his lower lip, then kissed him deeper. A soft, needy moan escaped me as I tried to coax him into responding. Please… move. Kiss me back. But he didn't.

Oh God. He didn’t want me. I had misread everything. I had just thrown myself at a man who was probably married, probably taken, probably disgusted by this desperate, pathetic mess who couldn’t even keep her own boyfriend faithful.

I started to pull back, humiliation burning like acid through my veins—

And then he growled.

The deep, primal sound rumbled up from his broad chest as he finally kissed me back—starving, ferocious, all-consuming. Like he’d been holding himself back by a fraying thread and I had just snapped it. His teeth scraped my lower lip before his tongue pushed inside, claiming my mouth with fierce, demanding strokes that left me dizzy, moaning, and melting against him.

His hands were suddenly everywhere. One dropped to my waist, gripping hard enough to bruise; the other slid down to squeeze my ass so hard enough to make me gasp into his mouth. Each touch sent electric shocks racing down my spine, lighting up every nerve ending that had gone dormant for months.

Six months without sex had left me ravenous and starved. And this—this was nothing like anything I’d ever experienced.

George had never kissed me with such raw hunger. Never touched me like he wanted to devour me whole and leave nothing behind.

But this stranger made me feel truly craved. Desired in a way that bordered on obsession. Like helpless prey that had finally been caught by the predator who knew exactly how to ruin me in the best way.

“Fuck, princess,” he growled against my lips as he broke the kiss just enough to speak. “You’re going to make me miss my meeting.”

“Then miss it,” I gasped, nipping at his bottom lip, tasting him. “Stay and fuck me like you mean it. Please.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending fresh sparks straight to my clit. “Careful what you wish for, sweetheart… because once I start, I’m not stopping until you’re dripping down every thick inch of my cock, and screaming my name so fucking loud the entire building knows exactly how thoroughly I’ve ruined you for any other man.”

That dark, absolute ownership in his voice, the calm certainty that he would claim me so completely I’d never be the same again… it should have sent me scrambling away, shoving at his broad chest, running for the door. This wasn’t safe. This wasn’t sane. He was old enough to be my father, for God’s sake.

Yet despite the fear, I melt into him and raked my fingers through his thick hair, tugging hard, as if daring him to lose control.

With a low, animalistic growl that sent shivers racing down my spine, he shoved me me back against the wall so hard to knock the breath from my lungs. Before I could recover, he pinned both of my wrists above my head with one massive hand and pressed his powerful body against mine. He ground that massive bulge against my stomach with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips, letting me feel exactly how hard he was for me.

Even through layers of clothing, his size was intimidating. My breath hitched sharply, and my pussy clenched hard with a rush of needy anticipation.

My hips rolled against him instinctively, chasing any scrap of friction I could steal. A soft, broken whimper escaped me at the delicious pressure.

His mouth tore away from mine only to blaze a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of my throat. He sucked and bit at the sensitive spot beneath my jaw, pulling a sharp, needy cry from my lips that echoed off the tiled walls.

“Fuck, that sound,” he murmured hotly against my skin, his tongue soothing the sting. “I want to hear every filthy noise you can make for me, princess. Don’t you dare hold back.”

His free hand slipped under the hem of my dress, gliding up my inner thigh with torturous slowness. When his fingers finally brushed over the soaked lace of my panties, I gasped sharply, my hips jerking toward his touch like I was starving for it.

“So fucking wet already,” he muttered against my lips, pressing harder against my swollen folds. “This greedy little pussy is dripping for me, isn’t it? Soaking through your panties like a desperate slut.”

He hooked the fabric aside and dragged two thick fingers through my bare, slick folds. The moment he circled my swollen clit, a loud, broken moan tore from my throat.

“You were so defensive few minutes ago,” he growled, pressing his fingers harder against my clit, “Now this little cunt is sucking my fingers greedily. Are you really this desperate to get fucked by a complete stranger in an airport bathroom, princess?”

I should have felt ashamed. I should have been horrified at how insane this was — pinned against the wall of a public men’s restroom by a man whose name I didn’t even know, barely twenty minutes after catching my boyfriend of three years balls-deep inside another woman.

Instead, a broken, needy moan slipped out of me. My legs spread wider on their own, shamelessly opening for him like a bitch in heat. Maybe that’s exactly what I had become in the last half hour.

I had stayed faithful for six long, frustrating months, even when the loneliness clawed at me every night, all because I loved George. And he had cheated anyway—used my money, lied to my face, and knocked up someone else. So fuck loyalty. Fuck waiting. Fuck being the “good girl.” I deserved to feel good. I deserved to be wanted so badly it hurt.

"Tell me the truth, princess" he said, teasing my entrance, dipping just the tip inside before pulling back, making me whimper with frustration.

"You like it when you saw me stroking to your picture, didn’t you?"

“Yes,” I sobbed, beyond embarrassment now, my voice cracking with need. “Yes, I—”

Without warning, he plunged two thick fingers deep inside me.

“Oh my God—” The cry ripped out of me as white-hot pleasure exploded behind my eyes. He fucked me with them hard and fast, curling perfectly against that sensitive spot inside with every ruthless stroke.

My thighs shook violently. The pressure built at blinding speed it was almost scary.

“Beg for it properly,” he demanded, voice rough as gravel, curling his fingers again and hitting that perfect spot over and over. “Tell me exactly how badly you need my cock to ruin you.”

“Please,” I whimpered, tears of frustration mixing with pleasure. “Please fuck me. I need your cock inside me right now. Use me. Ruin me. I don’t care—just please fuck me. I need it so fucking badly!”

He groaned in raw approval, his fingers never slowing. “I never expected you to be such a needy little slut, Violet.”

I froze.

The pleasure haze shattered instantly.

My eyes flew open, my heart slamming against my ribs.

How… how the hell did he know my name? I had never told him. Never said a single word about myself except the ugly, broken story I’d spilled in the heat of the moment.

I pulled back just enough to stare up at this handsome, dangerous stranger whose face I had never seen before in my life. I didn’t know him. I had never laid eyes on him until five minutes ago when I caught him jerking off to my phone wallpaper.

“How… how do you know my name?” I gasped, the words fracturing into a broken moan as he curled his fingers deeper, stretching me with ruthless precision.

He didn’t stop moving. His voice stayed low, almost amused, while his thick fingers kept pumping steadily. “Your phone, princess. Notifications kept lighting up while I was looking at that sinful little photo of you. ‘Violet, please.’ ‘Violet, I love you.’ ‘Violet.”

My stomach twisted at hearing George’s words thrown back at me so casually. But before I could process it, he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

“I know exactly who hurt you now, Violet. And I don’t like it.” His tone darkened, protective in a way that made something fragile flutter in my chest even as fear prickled my skin.

“Say the word, Violet, and that boy won’t take another breath before tomorrow”

The way he said it—so calm, so matter-of-fact—sent a chill racing down my spine even as my body melted hotter around his hand. This wasn’t normal talk. This was the voice of a man who saw killing as nothing and completely unbothered by the idea of violence.

I should have been terrified. Instead, a dark, twisted thrill ran through me. I might have wanted revenge on George, sure, but not… not like that. Not to the extent of… whatever this stranger was offering.

“I still don’t know your name…” I breathed, my hips still rocking shamelessly onto his hand despite the fear blooming in my chest but the pleasure was stronger, drowning out every warning bell in my head.

“Hades,” he said simply, like it was the most ordinary name in the world.

“Hades?” My eyes widened, lust fogging my brain. “Like… the god of death?"

“Just like the god of death,” he confirmed. “And the Don isn’t called the god of death for nothing, princess. I decide who gets to scream my name in pleasure… or in pain.”

Don?

The single word crashed over me like a bucket of ice water even as my pussy clenched hard around his fingers.

“You’re… you’re a mafia boss?” I whispered, shock and raw terror flooding my veins.

He tilted his head, studying my face like a predator savoring prey. “Tell me, princess… does that scare you? Knowing the man knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt is the king of the underworld”

I whimpered, my mind reeling. King of the underworld. This wasn’t some handsome stranger anymore. This was the kind of man people told horror stories about in hushed voices—bloodthirsty, ruthless, merciless. The kind who could end a life and sleep like a baby afterward. Men who took whatever they wanted and left nothing but ruin, tears, and graves behind them.

And here I was, legs spread wide in an airport restroom, dripping shamelessly all over the fingers of most dangerous man in the country.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?