Page 93 of Ivory's Ruin Romance

Because now he’d become the predator, and she his prey.

FORTY-FIVE

The small amount of light that filtered into the alley reflected off Ivory’s skin and shone like veins of amethyst in the cascade of her hair, casting a mystic aura around his intoxicating witch.

He hesitated, frozen in this moment. They were treading a thin line—caught between allowing her a glimpse of his darkness and falling victim to the depth of his emotion—with anyone else, he wouldn’t try to cross it, but he trusted her to use their safe word if needed. He trusted her to be everything he needed.

Even if it meant letting himself break. For her.

“I like you like this,” she said under her breath. “All dark and dangerous.”

His fingers skimmed down to her thighs, dancing under the hem of her dress in an illusion of tenderness. It wouldn’t be long before Cortez arrived, and he was already strung so tight. He couldn’t be gentle like last time.

The thing was, he didn’t want to be gentle.

“Hell,” he cursed. “You have no idea what real danger is, sweetheart.”

He slapped the inside of her thigh, and she gasped as he slotted himself between her legs. The position forced her against the wall, trapping her between the brick and his hard body. Her submission fueled his desire, ignited a surge of power that overcame the rest of his pain and despair.

“But if you want dark,” he continued. “I’ll give you pitch black.”

If she wanted to tame his demons, he’d let her. If she wanted his darkness to come out unleashed, he’d open the gate.

She believed he was capable, trusted him with her body enough to give him full control. To her, he was more than a black knight. To her, he could play god and the devil, and he’d be damned if he didn’t try his best to live up to both.

“Look at you,” he growled, low enough for only them to hear, even though they were alone. “Such a pathetic, pretty little thing. Caught in an alley with someone like me.”

Someone who fails the people who love him the most.

Her eyes closed as he licked along her pulse, the sweet saltiness of her skin driving him mad and granting him sanity at the same time. A moan resonated from her throat, and he drew his hand up to wrap around her neck, plucking at her nipple as he went.

“I could make you my personal slut,” he whispered, stroking her clit through her panties. “Bet you’d like that, hm? Letting me fuck you? Letting me toy with your soul?”

“Yes,” she moaned. “Please, sir.”

“That’s my fucking good girl.” He forced a finger through her drenched folds, grinding it hard against the rough patch of her g-spot. She cried out, and he slapped his palm against her clit. “Hush now.”

She clamped her mouth shut as he started to tease her again. Her thighs quivered, pinned apart and dripping with arousal.

“Look at that. You’re about to come already.” He chuckled. “All from just one finger. Can’t wait to see the look on your face when you take my entire cock.” The strain of his erection spread into his abdomen, tightening his balls and hooking deep in his groin, but he wouldn’t have to wait long.

He turned her chin with his thumb and made her look in his eyes. “I love seeing you struggle. Making you squirm. Damn, you’re too good for me, but I’m going to destroy you anyway.” He had to pause to catch his breath. “Tell me, sweetheart, how many inches have you earned?”

“Three?” she squeaked, uncertain as she struggled to form words.

He hummed, working his finger in and out at a slow, steady pace. She’d already coated him in nectar, her pussy weeping in relief. “Correct. But I’ll be nice and give you four because you took me so well in your tight throat today.”

Her eyes widened, and a brief flash of pride lifted the corners of her mouth. Then he thrust in another finger with cruel thrusts, just to watch her come apart. Her head fell back with a silent wail, thighs quivering, sex pulsing as she came.

He tightened his grip on her throat, unable and unwilling to let her savor the moment. “Left arm above your head.”

He grabbed the gun from his waist and checked the safety, then pressed the side of the barrel to her wrist and pined it with the metal. She let out a breathless moan.

“Now be a good little slut and take out my dick,” he rasped.

She reached down and fumbled with his zipper. His witch was so diligent, so careful with her meticulous movements—the very opposite of the crude display of lust that sprung into her hand. His erection grew all the more enraged at her touch, veins full and swollen, the tip flared and shiny as she smeared a pearl of his leaking precum.

Sliding his hand over hers, he caged her palm against his dick and guided her fingers to grip him where he wanted, leaving four inches at the top. “Just like that,” he breathed.

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