Page 37 of Lords of Ruin: Cherished

He doesn’t wait. His hands grip my hips, holding me steady, and I feel him press into me, slow, so achingly slow, as if he’s savoring every second. I gasp, my fingers clutching the sink so tightly my knuckles turn white, and I arch my back, giving myself completely to him.

“God, Willow,” he groans, his voice strained. “You feel… you’re…fuck.”

He moves then, slow, so slow, and it’s both agony and ecstasy. Every inch, every movement, sends sparks of pleasure through me, and I can’t help but moan, my hips rocking to meet his.

“God, Willow,” he groans, his hands tightening on my thighs. “You feel so good.”

“So do you,” I whisper, my breath hitching as he fills me completely. “Damien, I…”

He kisses me then, cutting off my words, and I lose myself in the way he feels, the way he moves, the way he’s so careful, so gentle, even as his body betrays the hunger he’s trying to hold back.“Damien,” I moan, my voice trembling. “More. Please.”

He hesitates, his hands tightening on my hips. “Are you sure? I don’t want to?—”

“I’m sure,” I interrupt, my voice breathless but firm. “I can take it. I need it.”

A low growl escapes him, and he shifts, his hands sliding up my back, pulling me closer to him. His thrusts grow deeper, more insistent, and I bite my lip to stifle a moan, the pleasure building with every movement.

“You know what you are, Trouble?” He murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

“What?” I gasp into him as he rockets his hips and fills me to the hilt.

“My fucking heart, Trouble.” He groans, pulling out of me and then slamming home again. “My whole fucking soul.”

I can’t speak, can barely think, as his rhythm quickens, his movements growing more urgent. My body responds to him, every nerve alight with pleasure, and I feel myself teetering on the edge, so close to falling over the cliff.

“Damien,” I gasp, my fingers clawing at the sink. “I’m… I’m…”

“I’ve got you,” he growls, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me back against him with every thrust. “Let go, Willow. I’ve got you.”

And I do. The pressure builds, unbearable, and then I’m falling, my body convulsing with pleasure as I cry out his name. He follows me over the edge, his thrusts growing erratic, his grip on me tightening as he buries himself deep inside me, his own release shuddering through him.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our ragged breathing, the feel of his body pressed against mine, the warmth of his skin against my back. He rests his forehead against my shoulder, his chest heaving, his hands still gripping my hips.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

I nod, my body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. “I’m… I’m okay,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “That was… that was amazing.”

He lets out a soft laugh, his breath warm against my skin. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice rough. “It was.”

He pulls back slightly, his hands sliding up my sides, and I turn to face him, my body still tingling with pleasure. His grey eyes are filled with a mix of desire and concern, and I can see the way he’s holding himself back, the way he’s trying to keep himself in check.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing against my bottom lip. “I’ve never…fuckto think I spent the last four years missing that.”

“Never make me wait that long again,” I chastise, my hand reaching up to cup his cheek, my thumb brushing against his stubble. “Because I want more. I wantyou, Damien. All of you.”

He lets out a soft groan, his forehead resting against mine. “You’re going to be the death of me, Willow,” he murmurs.

“Or you’ll be the death of me first,” I whisper back.

“Never,” Damien whispers, before drawing me into a slow, deep kiss.

12

VINCENT

"What do you meanbroke?" I snarl, staring at my cowering father.

He shrinks further into his leather chair, the one he refuses to part with despite its worn edges. His eyes dart around the study—once a symbol of our prominence, now just another room with too many empty spaces where valuables used to sit.

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