Page 70 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

“What?” She whimpers, as I capture her lips again , swallowing her noises whole.

I bring both my hands to her hips, lifting her up just slightly so she is bouncing on my cock as I let loose and drive into her. Her moans become frenzied as I pound into her so hard, she has no option but to hold onto me for dear life.

She moans into my mouth. “Please.”

Her hands lace in my hair and tug as I continue to pound into my sweet, cherry-tasting, tight as fuck pussy. I keep my pace, unrelenting, and just moments before I fall over the edge I answer her. “Yes.”

She moans, moving along with me as she chases her release. Cumming with my name on her tongue, I follow seconds later, emptying everything I have into her. I move slowly as we cum, my breathing laborious and our skin sticky with sweat.

After a moment, she whispers against me. “That’s sex?”

I nod, “Yes.”

“Holy fuck,” She whimpers as I slowly slide myself out of her warmth. “I think I’m addicted.”

21

WILLOW

Isit at a table in the back of the library, my fingers tracing the edge of my notebook, but my thoughts are far from anything academic. I can’t focus on the page in front of me. The words blur together.

Cast has been MIA for two weeks now, and Vincent has stepped in like the perfect guy, the one I can rely on to distract me from the ache in my chest.

He’s been taking me out on dates—always thoughtful, always considerate. Dinner, movies, walks through the park… the whole nine yards. I should be grateful, right? But every time he smiles at me, all I can think about is how much of it feels like a performance.

Safe. Predictable. Comfortable. But my mind keeps running to Cast.

Cast, whose absence has made everything feel off-balance. I don't know what he’s dealing with, but I can't help the gnawing worry in my stomach that something is wrong.

I need him.

I need the real him—the one who’s intense, unpredictable, the one who makes my pulse race with the smallest touch, the one who’s tangled up in the cartel, in all the darkness that makes him who he is. But he's been gone, leaving me in this limbo, half of me stuck on hold, waiting for him to come back and pull me from this strange, hollow place.

And then there's Damien.

I can feel his presence without even looking at him. Every time I catch a glimpse of him across the room, it’s like he’s a storm in human form.

Moody. Angry. Distant.

Since the night everything changed, since the night I gave Vincent my virginity and Damien broke down the walls with that kiss. Everything has been different between Damien and me.

He’s distant, like he’s been made of ice and fire at once. He grunts when I try to talk to him, barely looks me in the eye, and when he does, it’s like he’s looking through me, as if I’m some ghost he can’t quite place.

I know why he’s angry. He’s angry because he wants me and hates me for it. He hates me because I’ve taken something from him that he’ll never get back—his mother’s heart. I don’t even know how to fix that, but every time I try to reach out to him, it’s like I’m talking to a wall.

I glance up at Damien now, sitting a few tables away, his eyes fixed on his textbook but not really reading it. His jaw is clenched tight, his whole body radiating frustration.

I don’t know if it’s me or the situation with his mother that’s got him so twisted up, but I can’t get through to him. I don’t knowhow to make it better. And every time I try, the silence between us just grows.

Damien doesn’t look up as I pass by his table, but I can feel the heat of his anger pressing against my skin. He’s a storm waiting to break, and I don’t know how much longer I can stand in the eye of it without getting swept away.

I turn around and walk back toward him, my heartbeat louder in my ears with every step. I stop in front of his table, but he doesn’t look up. His gaze stays fixed on his textbook like I don’t exist.

“Damien,” I say, barely above a whisper, my voice trembling.

Still no response.

I clear my throat, trying to steady myself. “Damien, can we talk?”

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