Page 119 of Mine to Ruin

A simple visit would have been enough, but a man gestures for us, and when he opens the door at the end of a hallway, a candlelit table for two is set, and on the walls, paintings of my favorite abstract painters. Emotions overwhelm me and I stammer.

“I am… I don’t know what to say.”

“You like it?” His expression is a mix of excitement and vulnerability. I twirl around and clasp my hands to my heart.

“Are you kidding? Not even in my wildest dreams could I picture me having dinner in a museum, surrounded by my favorite artists. I didn’t even know this was possible.”

His hands burrow into my hips, and his forehead presses to mine.

“I live to make you happy.”

I believe him; he has proved it, and my heart is his, just his, forever his. He pulls a chair out for me before rounding the table to his seat.

“I remember you telling me you sucked at being a boyfriend.” My voice breaks at the end with all the emotions he ignites in me.

“And look at me now, the picture-perfect fiancée.”

I tease him, “So confident, aren’t we?”

He leans toward me and says, “Now I have to rock at being the best husband.”

I have no doubt. “You’ll be the best husband.”

“Then marry me already.” He taps a finger on the table, a dark cloud settling in the grays of his eyes, and you would think it’s been two years and not two months since he proposed.

“I’ll start planning, happy?”

“Very.” He grins and his mood shifts.

“But I warn you, you better be involved because I also have work to do.” I point a finger at him and he wiggles his brows at me.

“I am all for equality.”

“That’s one of the reasons I’m marrying you.”

“And the others?”

“Who said there were others?” I ask teasingly, and he throws his head back and laughs. I play with the diamond choker, tilting my head and sliding my leg up his leg.

“Angel, you’re getting fucked right here if you don’t stop.”

The atmosphere crackles with heat.

“I am such a bad angel.” I slip from my chair and crawl to him while his eyes take me in, filled with hunger. I unzip his pants and I say, “Good thing my lipstick is smudge-proof.”

“Make a mess all over my cock. I don’t fucking care.” He cups my neck, but I lift my chin.

“No touching.”

His voice lowers. “Ellia.”

“Do you want my mouth on your cock?” He nods, eyes glowing with desperation, and I add, “Then keep your hands to yourself.”

I lick the tip and he hisses. “Fuck.”

I play with his balls, and I take him down my throat and his teeth dig into his lip.

“I love seeing your lips wrapped around my cock.”

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