Page 119 of Ivory's Ruin Romance

A chorus of helpless moans spilled from her lips. Then he slipped in. The flare of his hood notched inside, and her muscles held him in place.

He kept the belt taut and stroked her jaw, feeding himself into her ass. “There we go,” he murmured, voice strained and breathless. “Just a little more. You’re doing so well, Iv. My perfect little witch. You feel amazing, magical. Shit—” His hips flexed, and she felt him bottom out.

“All eight inches,” he breathed. “Everything you’ve earned, sweetheart. Does that make you happy?”

“Yes, sir,” she hummed. The words sounded far away like they were floating above her. “I’m so happy and full. I want you to fuck me. Please.”

“As you wish.” Then he began to move for real.

Each drag of his cock felt a million times more electric, the sensation hooking so deep it felt like he could reach all the way to her heart. She relaxed around him as the pressure from earlier climbed higher. Her hands clung to the straps, body strung together only by the thread of desire between them.

“Mm,” he groaned. “Can you take more, sweetheart?”

More? She bit her lip. “If you want me to, sir.”

He cursed and held himself still as he reached to the side. “That’s right, you’re going to take whatever I give you. You’re going to come with my gun in your pussy and my cock in your ass.” As he spoke, the words became her destiny, unavoidable and prophetic.

The gun’s barrel slipped between her folds. He tried to hold her open and make it easier to take, but even with the promise of pleasure, it wasn’t easy. If the stretch had been obvious before, now it bordered on unbearable. Adrian worked the gun in gently, holding her and whispering praises all the while. How incredible she felt, how tight and hot, and how good she’d feel being stuffed full.

Keeping himself buried to the root, he eased the gun in and out until she moaned and ground herself against it. Then he started to move, and she lost all sanity.

Searing sparks of pleasure tore through her veins. They sizzled in her abdomen and sunk down to her toes. The only things left were pleasure and pain, a harmony of the two that wasn’t one or the other but a fusion, a transformation that surged through every cell and imprinted his name on each one. Wound his being with hers.

Just like he’d promised, he’d carved his way into her soul and filled it to the point of bursting. He destroyed her, then pieced her together with his mark. With his claim. His permanence.

His thrusts grew steadier, sure and potent as his thighs kissed hers and drove her into the door. Their pants echoed off the walls. He released the belt to cup her face, and it was the sweet tenderness of his touch that broke the thin surface of her reserves.

Everything imploded at once, fierce and shattering. The climax poured out of her in endless wet waves, one crashing down after the other in a formidable storm.

“So fucking beautiful.” The gun clattered to the floor. Then his lips dominated hers as he shoved in one last time and pumped her full of his semen. He kissed her as he came, his hair tickling her skin and heat blossoming low in her belly.

“I love you,” she whispered, soothing him with her lips as he shuttered and stroked her face.

“I love you, too, Ivory.” Together, they descended from the high, kissing and gasping and murmuring disjointed words that made her heart remember how to beat. At last, he took the belt from her neck and slipped her hands out of the straps. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing,” she mumbled. “Exhausted.”

The ribbon fell from her eyes, and she blinked as the room came into focus. Her black knight stood there as handsome as ever, rubbing her skin and making sure the marks would fade, letting her senses return. She looked down, and it took a moment for her to register what she saw. First, a towel utterly soaked. Second, a gun she didn’t recognize, made of brightly colored plastic.

“Wait,” she whispered. “What’s all that?”

He smiled, then bent to pick up the gun. “It was quite the sight. A world wonder, actually.” He let her hold the foreign gun—a plastic toy. “All thanks to my new squirt gun. Accurately named in this case.”

“I didn’t,” she breathed, eyes wide.

“You did,” he confirmed. “And I’ll make you do it again the next chance I get.”

If she wasn’t so worn out, she’d have more energy to feel some type of way about that. But as it was, she could only jump to the next thought. “If this was a toy, was the knife fake, too?”

“This?” He held up a metal ruler. Holding her arm, he dragged the edge along her skin. The point of the corner bit into her the same way as the perceived blade. “I wouldn’t risk you getting cut. But I will let you believe it in the moment.”

She managed a weak laugh and shook her head. “You’re more dangerous than I thought.”

He hummed absently, though his eyes showed more than a healthy streak of pride. “Can you stand?”

Doubtful. She gripped his shoulders as he undid the rest of the straps, then tested her shaky legs. “I think I can. But I’d prefer if you held me.”

Without complaint, he swooped her into his arms. “I’d prefer if I held you, too.” Grabbing the blanket off his bed, he bent to kiss her forehead. “I have a movie set up in the living room.”

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