Page 106 of Ivory's Ruin Romance

Her hands tightened on the table as he spread her labia apart. Lightly, he pressed on her clit and rubbed lazy circles that felt like tiny electric jolts. Her back arched. He sunk two fingers inside her.

“Name four of Jupiter’s moons.”

“What?” she sputtered.

“Jupiter has ninety-two moons. Surely you can name four.”

She glared at the ceiling. Of all times, now? It took every ounce of her concentration to count her breaths, and he wanted her to name moons?

A second finger crooked inside her. “Don’t make me wait.”

Oh, he’d really done it now—

The fingers twisted, and a ruefully obscene moan fell from her lips. Fine. Fine! At this rate, the one thread holding her together was fraying. She needed to finish as fast as possible.

“Europa,” she panted. That one was the easiest. The others would take more effort to remember—effort currently being used to not succumb to his torment.

Nothing she’d done had ever been this difficult. No academic test could ever hold a candle to his sadism. Her muscles bunched as her pussy sang, toes stretching to escape euphoria for even a second longer.

Adrian continued with relentless precision. “Good. Keep going.”

That bastard.

“Io.” The word elongated as it left her lips, transforming into another wretched moan as he increased the pressure. Her clit had a heartbeat of its own. Both her body and her brain had reached their limit, but the next moon was on the tip of her tongue…just a little more…she could do it.

His mouth closed around her nipple.

“No, please, no!” The tears of gratitude from earlier turned against her, rolling down her cheeks in a hot stream.

He didn’t stop.

With expert touch, he let her tumble into the abyss. Pleasure consumed every rational thought. It burned through her like a wildfire, beautiful and devastating, obliterating everything in its wake. It dragged her under its control and stripped away what dignity she had left.

She sobbed and shook, nearly rolling onto the floor from the impact. But as the orgasm began to fade, a bitter wave of remorse replaced the high. She’d lost. She came without his permission.

She failed her black knight.

FIFTY-TWO

She sealed her eyes shut against the threat of more tears. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t—”

“Shh,” Adrian soothed, tender while keeping command. “Can you name another moon, sweetheart?”

She looked up, expecting to see disapproval written on his face, but the frown she braced for wasn’t there. He didn’t look upset, not even in the playful way he’d been during their scene yesterday. Instead, he gleamed with pride and reverent awe, as real as any other time she’d impressed him.

“Ga–something?” she whispered.

He smiled. “Yeah, I think that’s one. Let me check.” He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. “To be honest, you could have said anything, and I would’ve believed you. Here it is—Ganymede. Did I pronounce that correctly?”

She managed a weak laugh. “Ga-nuh-meed, and I have no idea what the fourth biggest moon is called. My mind is mush at the moment.”

“Callisto.”

“Right. I remember now.” She sighed and let herself relax against the table. There had been no rational reason to fear his response. He’d always protect her, even from himself—or, in this case, from herself. “You did that on purpose. You wanted me to fail.”

He set the phone down and turned towards her, feathering his fingers up her arms and capturing her hands with his. Their bare chests pressed together, his warm skin to her soft breasts. “Pain isn’t always physical.” His golden eyes searched hers, prodding for any sign of real harm. “But regardless of form, if you feel it, I own it. I own your success and your failure. In the bedroom, I decide which you’ll get. And no matter what, you will always please me.”

His words found root deep inside her wrung-out psyche, blooming into a rich bouquet more profound than any temporary pleasure. For once, she didn’t have to worry about falling short. She didn’t need to think about performing better than someone else. Their sex wasn’t about that, and neither was their relationship. They didn’t measure themselves in terms of win or lose. They had a partnership, and that bond was more permanent than a contract, more sacred than a promise.

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