Page 59 of Keeping Ruby

Pressure builds within me. Hot, wild, impossible pressure like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I’m so full and yet—I want more. I need more.

“Harder,” the word escapes on the wave of a tangled moan. My husband doesn’t disappoint, and I watch, transfixed, as his face morphs into something wild, and sexy, and dangerously hard, as he pounds into me. Tearing into me. Claiming me.

He falls forward, his thrusts growing less rhythmic, more frantic. His mouth claims mine, his tongue slipping into my mouth, his teeth sinking into my lip. When he shoves his hand between us, the other still holding me in place at my hip, I gasp as his thumb connects with the bud of nerves. He presses into me like a button, and that pressure just—erupts. Wave, after violent wave, crash into me, rolling through me. He bucks into me wildly through every one until he roots himself to the hilt, his grunts becoming deeper and shorter, as he buries his face into my neck, his big body spasming over mine as hot release spills into my core.

It takes a moment for me to come down from my unexpected, unplanned high. The fall is hard. The crash is painful.

What have I done?

I just—I just had sex—with my husband.

Twenty-Six

Kirill

She stiffens beneath me. My cock is still hard inside her, my cum leaking from her overfull cunt, and she’s pulling away from me. I feel every one of her mental shields slam into place, one, by fucking, one.

I want to break them down. I want to burn them to ash.

Now that she’s let me inside—now that I’ve had her—I won’t let anything stand between us. Not even her. Not her God. And not the shame her life of religion has led her to feel in the wake of this perfection.

Thrusting my semi-hard erection into her, I revel in her sweet gasp before I lift my head from the soft crevice where her neck meets her shoulder, and I take her lips. A protest had been forming, but I devour it. Refusing to let it fall into the space between us, and I sigh when she softens beneath me. Like she can’t help it.

She’s mine.

I want to thank her. But will that make me an ass? Will she feel used if I thank her for giving into me? For opening herself to me? For letting me inside?

For giving me soft when everything has been hard for so, so long.

Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never been in this position. I’ve never cared about what a woman felt after, as long as she was satisfied. But I care what she feels. I care about her emotions. Her thoughts. Her fears.

I’m her first. Her husband.

Her only.

I stay rooted deep inside her until the cold becomes too intense to ignore for a moment longer. I wish I’d had the foresight to do this back at the cabin—in the bed—in the warmth where I could have remained inside her all night long.

Fucking fuck, but I hadn’t meant for this to happen. Not here. Not like this.

She winces sharply as I pull my dick from inside her, shoving it into my pants. She’s bled again, which is a shock. I wasn’t expecting that after last night. “Did I hurt you?”

She shakes her head, but doesn’t reply. She looks—stricken.

My heart skips in my chest.

I set to pulling her leggings back up her legs, then reach for the pants I’d tossed into the snow. Giving them a rough shake, I help her into them. Then I help her button her shirt. I don’t stop until she’s bundled up tight, gloves and all.

“Say something, Ruby.”

Her honey-colored eyes blink slowly, as though she’s trying, and failing, to process all that has happened between us. Her innocence is lost. It’s mine, now and forever.

“I—” She looks away, a frown drawing her brows close. “I think I’m hungry.”

I feel my own brows climb as an incredulous laugh spills from the depths of me. “Do you want to go back to the cabin, or to town?”

She tips her head back at the darkening sky. Then she shakes it. “I think Simba is missing us.”

He’s not. The lazy dog is sleeping, but because I no longer have any desire to take her into town tonight, I say, “Get on. I’ll get one of the guys to grab pizza.”

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