Page 40 of Forbidden Dark Vows

“Harder?” His breath mingles with mine. “You mean like this?” He rams his fingers inside me, and I pant. My spine automatically arches, pushing my pussy onto him.

“Yes.”

Harry leaves my side, and I muffle my moans of pleasure with my fist when I feel his tongue between my legs. His fingers drag back and forth, rubbing my clit before his tongue is right there, licking slowly, hitting the spot with each stroke. He slides a hand up to my breasts, pinching my nipple between his fingers.

“I can’t see you, Ruby.”

I raise my head from the pillow and peer down at him, his tongue inside me, his eyes watching me hungrily. He starts sucking then, holding my gaze, his eyes lighting up when he sees what effect he’s having on me.

I can’t control my orgasm. I bite down hard on my knuckles, feeling the explosion everywhere.

Harry doesn’t waste a beat. Before I’ve caught my breath, he’s inside me. He pushes my thighs backwards, and drapes my feet over his shoulders, my knees almost touching my ears. He’s in so deep, I swear I can feel the end of his cock hitting my spine.

“Hard enough for you?” His face is so close, I can see the faint red lines crisscrossing the whites of his eyes.

“Yes.” It comes out breathily, mingled with my shallow breaths.

“Sure?” He grips my hair tightly, arching my neck backwards and exposing my throat to his kisses. “I think you can take more, Ruby.”

On his knees, he slides his cock all the way out, its absence leaving me breathless, then rams himself back inside me. So deep it forces the air from my lungs.

“How about that?” He smothers my mouth, his teeth biting into the soft flesh around my lips and making my brain cells swim.

I entwine my fingers with his hair, holding onto him, his kisses as hot and hard as his thrusts. I’ve never wanted him so badly. He fills my mouth with his tongue, and I suck on it, desperate to keep him inside me. To feel him filling me up. I hold him tightly until he reaches his own orgasm, his wetness exploding inside me, his body juddering in a reaction that is already so familiar, I can’t help smiling to myself.

This is Harry.

MyHarry.

14

HARRY

The wind howlsaround the cottage all night, battering the windows, and flinging rain at the glass as if it’s trying to get inside. We snuggle under the fur throw, creating a tent over our heads, and we talk. We talk about whatever pops into our heads.

Ruby talks about her favorite books aside fromWuthering Heights. “Forever Amber. It was banned when it was first written, although God knows why. There’s nothing risqué about it now. AndThe Other Side of Midnightby Sidney Sheldon. This book literally left me speechless for days after I finished it.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Hey.” She punches me playfully on the arm. “I can be quiet… When I want to be.”

I tell her about my sister Melanie.

“She and my mom were really close. When my mom got sick, Melanie looked after her. She washed her, and fed her, and brushed her hair. I’d come home from work and find her sitting in the rocking chair beside my mom’s bed, reading books to her, while my mom simply faded away.”

Ruby proves to me that she can be quiet. She holds me in her arms and transfers her warmth to me beneath the furry blanket, and I doze off, dreaming that Melanie, dressed as a British cop, comes to find us here in this remote farmhouse.

The following morning,we’re woken by the aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee. I slide my arms out from under the blanket and immediately regret it as the chill raises goosebumps on my flesh. We dress quickly and head to the kitchen where Eileen is humming while she fries eggs in a pan on the stove.

“Morning,” she tosses over her shoulder with her usual wide smile. “I hope you’re both hungry.”

“Ravenous.” Ruby sits down at the table. She’s wearing a baggy sweater and clean jeans, and I don’t think that I could find a more perfect setting for her, despite knowing that she’s a city girl. “Can we explore the farm after breakfast, Eileen?”

“Aye, but don’t get too close to the cows. They’re in the shed up the hill for the winter. You’ll find Alastair up there.”

She places in front of us plates heaped with food and goes back to the counter where she slices homemade bread into thick pieces and spreads them thickly with butter.

I’ve never considered myself a foodie. I can cook—my mom made sure to teach me the basics—but I can’t remember a meal that I’ve enjoyed more than this breakfast. Perhaps it’s the wind still howling around the cottage, or the sea stretching endlessly towards the horizon, or perhaps it’s simply because I’m here with Ruby, somewhere where no one will ever think of looking for us.

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