Page 52 of Keeping Ruby

Her breath shudders and she rolls her hips, the ridge of my dick sliding between the crease of her ass again and again.

Fuck, I’m gonna blow.

Suddenly, the desire to have her coming with me is fierce. It’s the only thing that matters. Her shattering as I erupt.

If I can’t have it with my dick buried inside her soft, tight, hot cunt?—

My thoughts fracture.

Shoving the soaked, thin strip of her panties to the side, I push two fingers knuckle deep into her pussy—shocked by how tight she squeezes me. She looses a startled, aroused scream, but I’ve already begun to pump my fingers into her channel, my palm connecting with her swollen clit on every thrust. When the thrust of my hips increases, the motions becoming desperate, the tempo of my fingers in her sweet cunt increases to match.

It’s frantic. Raw. Brutal.

Exactly how I ache to fuck her.

“Kirill—” she gasps, pussy clenching around my fingers as I grit, “Come for me, wife.”

The sound she makes. Fucking hell. Heaven.

She shatters around my fingers.

I come in my pants with a grunt I bury into the soft skin of her throat. Against my lips, her pulse is a wild thing. Her breathing is much more dysregulated than my own. I suspect it’s not so much to do with her orgasm, as it has to do with the war her mind wages against the pleasure of her body.

I shift my fingers in her pussy, and she hisses in a sharp breath, her body jolting against mine. Her words are small as she begs, “Please stop.”

“Don’t do that.” My voice is the opposite to hers. Where hers is soft and pleading, mine is a rough command.

“Don’t do what?”

I don’t pull my fingers from between her legs. “Don’t pull away from me. Don’t act like what we just did, what we gave each other, is wrong.”

“Please.” She shifts her hips again, but this time her hands wrap around my wrist to push me from where I’m still knuckle deep inside her wet warmth. “It—it’s hurting.”

I’d been about to fight her. To finger fuck another orgasm from her wet cunt just to prove a point, but those words, so hesitant, so unsure, so pleading—they stop me. Again, I’m reminded of how I’d suspected that maybe my little wife is more innocent than I’d thought when I’d kissed her that first time. It had been as though she hadn’t known how to kiss. But she’d learned quick enough, I figured maybe she just hadn’t been kissed by a man who was as man as me. Them choir boys, with their soft hands and timid touches, have nothing on the hellfire that rages inside my veins when it comes to possessing this woman.

Now, though. Those words so softly spoken, like a prayer, hit me like a bullet to my tarry heart.

Slowly, so as not to hurt her, I slide my fingers from the heat of her.

My heart drums in my chest as I lift them. And that’s when I see it, illuminated in the flickering light of the movie that plays, mixed in the shimmering evidence of her arousal—is ribbons of diluted red.

Proof of her innocence.

The beast inside me rages.

Twenty-Three

Ruby

I want to die.

My husband is staring at the fingers he pushed inside of me so violently, so deliciously painfully, forcing an orgasm through my body that shattered me like glass—and now he’s sitting here, staring at the evidence of my innocence.

He’s quiet behind me. So quiet.

I hadn’t thought he’d tear through my virtue with his fingers. If I’d thought such a thing were possible, I never would have allowed what happened just now, to happen.

And the blood—God, the blood.

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