Page 116 of Mine to Ruin

He turns me on my belly, grabs my ass cheeks and bites me there.

“Love this ass.”

“I know.” I jiggle it, and a groan rumbles from his throat.

“Put your hands on your ass. I want to see my ring on your finger while I fuck you.”

A shiver of anticipation rolls through me, and I do that.

He slaps my thighs open and dips two fingers inside my pussy.

“So hungry for my cock.”

“Always for you,” I moan and wiggle my ass, asking for more.

“Such a good angel.”

His praise makes me even wetter. He unbuckles himself and says, “I’m going in bare.”

I nod, and he slaps my ass.

“That wasn’t a question. The question is where you want me to come, inside your pussy, on your ass, or in your mouth.”

“Wherever you want.” We both freeze at my answer. I am crazy mad about this man.

He kisses down my back and says, “You’d give me everything.”

“Everything.” Emotions lie heavy in the air between us, and as I look at him over my shoulder, he gulps, his love for me replacing the mad lust.

He rolls me on my back and kisses me until I gasp for air, and he makes love to me.

The next morning, I’m standing at the kitchen counter when he comes around and kisses my exposed shoulder.

“I love you in my shirts,” he says.

After we have breakfast together, I hum all the way to my studio. We’ve had sex without a condom, and not just once. But I lose my mind when he’s inside me. I should have gotten on birth control.

Brandon visits me, carrying a lunch bag, and watches the men taking out all my carefully-wrapped paintings.

“You look happy.”

“I am.”

“Did you choose a date?” His question sends my sex-infused brain back to last night when Kian told me to set the date after coming inside me.

Brandon snaps his thumb and forefinger and I shake myself out of the sex trance.

“We have some time to decide.” Hopefully.

“Well, you’re young, he’s the old one.”

I elbow him and retort, “Don’t be mean, he’s sexy now, he’ll be a sexy old fox.”

“Ick, you must really love him,” he says, suddenly drawn into his own thoughts, a pensive expression overtaking his face.

“I do, he’s perfect.”

“No, he’s not.”

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