Sinful Shorts: Bound to the Alpha, Billionaire, and Mafia

The moon was full and ugly, hanging low enough to bleach every tree silver. I shouldn’t have been this deep in the woods. One wrong turn after the pack run and the path vanished under my boots. Branches clawed my arms. Mud sucked at my heels. My breath came too loud, too fast.

Something moved behind me.

Not an animal. Heavier. Steady. Like it already owned the ground I was running on.

I pushed harder. Twigs snapped under my feet. The scent hit me first—pine and cold iron and something thicker, warmer, like heated skin and blood. My stomach dropped. My thighs clenched without permission.

A hand closed around my throat from behind.

Not gentle. Not testing. Just claimed.

I was yanked off my feet and slammed back against a solid chest. Heat poured off him. Hard muscle. Broad. The kind of body that didn’t need to prove anything. His arm locked across my ribs, pinning my arms. His other hand stayed on my throat, thumb pressing just under my jaw so I felt every pulse.

“Running from me already?” The voice was low, rough, right against my ear. “Bad start.”

I twisted. My elbow drove back. He didn’t even grunt. Just tightened the arm until my ribs creaked and my back was flush against him. Every inch of him was solid. I felt the thick line of his cock press against the small of my back through the fabric. It was already hard. Already heavy.

“Let go—”

“Quiet.”

His nose dragged along the side of my neck. Slow. Deliberate. He inhaled like he was tasting the air under my skin. A low sound rumbled in his chest—half growl, half something darker. My pulse jumped under his fingers. Heat flooded between my legs so fast it was almost humiliating.

“There it is,” he muttered. “Knew the second I caught your scent.”

Mate.

The word never left his mouth, but I felt it land in the space between us like a brand. My wolf—traitorous, stupid thing—rolled over inside me and exposed her throat. My nipples tightened against my thin shirt. The wetness between my thighs was already soaking through the seam of my shorts.

He spun me around.

One second I was facing the trees. The next I was staring up at him under the hard white moonlight.

Tall. Black hair falling into sharp eyes that glowed faint gold. Jaw tight. Mouth set in a cruel line. He looked like he’d been carved out of the same dark stone as the mountains. His shirt was half open, chest rising slow and controlled while mine was already shaking.

His hand stayed on my throat. The other slid down, gripped my hip hard enough to bruise, and yanked me forward until my body slammed into his. Cock against my lower belly. Thick. Hot. Unapologetic.

“You’re mine,” he said. Simple. Flat. Like stating the weather. “Name.”

I swallowed. His thumb tracked the movement.

“Lila.”

“Lila.” He tasted it. Then his free hand fisted in the front of my shirt and ripped. The sound of tearing fabric was loud in the quiet forest. Cool night air hit my bare breasts. My nipples peaked harder under his stare.

He didn’t look away. Didn’t soften.

“Pretty little mate running through my territory like she doesn’t know better.” His palm covered one breast, rough and possessive, thumb dragging over the tight nipple. “You feel that? Your body already knows who it belongs to.”

I shoved at his chest. Useless. He only crowded closer, backing me up until bark scraped my spine. His knee shoved between my thighs, forcing them open. The hard muscle of his thigh pressed right against the soaked center of my shorts. A broken sound left my throat before I could stop it.

He smiled then. Not kind. Not soft. Just teeth and victory.

“That’s it. Fight if you want. Makes the claiming sweeter.”

His mouth dropped to my neck. Not a kiss. An open, wet drag of lips and tongue, then the scrape of teeth right over the spot where a mark would go. My hips jerked against his thigh. Shame burned hot in my face, but my body kept rolling, seeking friction.

He laughed low against my skin.

“Already wet for me. Smell it. Sweet and desperate.” His hand left my breast, slid down my stomach, and shoved straight into my shorts. Two thick fingers found the slick mess between my folds and pushed inside without warning.

I cried out. The stretch burned. My walls clenched hard around the sudden intrusion. He curled those fingers and stroked something that made my knees buckle. His other hand stayed locked on my throat, keeping me upright, keeping me exactly where he wanted.

“Listen carefully.” His voice stayed calm even while his fingers worked deeper, wet sounds loud in the night. “You’re coming back to the pack house with me. You’re sleeping in my bed. You’re taking my cock whenever I want it. And if you try to run again…” His fingers scissored inside me, hard enough that my eyes watered. “I will hunt every single person you’ve ever cared about and make you watch.”

My breath hitched. Fear and heat tangled so tight I couldn’t tell them apart.

He pulled his fingers free. They glistened in the moonlight. He pressed them to my mouth.

“Open.”

I did. The taste of myself hit my tongue—salty, musky, wrong. He pushed deeper until I had to swallow around them.

“Good girl.”

Then he bent, hooked an arm under my knees, and lifted me like I weighed nothing. My torn shirt hung open. My shorts were still shoved aside. Cold air licked the wet mess between my legs with every step he took.

The forest blurred. Trees. Shadows. The distant lights of a massive stone house rising out of the dark. He carried me through heavy wooden doors, past silent corridors that smelled of leather and smoke and power. Wolves watched from doorways. No one spoke. No one stopped him.

He kicked open a door at the end of a long hallway.

His room.

Dark wood. Huge bed. Black sheets. A fire already burning low in the hearth. The door slammed shut behind us. The lock clicked.

He set me on my feet in the middle of the room and stepped back just far enough to look at what he’d claimed.

My shirt hung in ruined strips. My shorts were soaked and twisted. My thighs were shiny with how wet he’d made me. I could still feel the phantom stretch of his fingers.

He started unbuttoning what was left of his own shirt, eyes never leaving mine.

“Clothes off. All of them. Then get on the bed.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. My pulse throbbed low and heavy between my legs. The mate bond pulled taut, hot and demanding, while every instinct screamed that this man was going to ruin me on purpose.

He took one slow step closer.

“I won’t ask twice.”