Page 42 of Lords of Ruin: Cherished

"Good," he says, tracing a finger along my jawline. "Because you belong right here with me." There's something possessive in his tone that should frighten me, but doesn't. Not anymore.

He sits up suddenly, running a hand through his disheveled curls. The morning light catches the various scars that crisscross his tanned skin..

"You know," he says thoughtfully, those green eyes suddenly distant, "I used to hate sleeping with someone else in the room." He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Paranoia's a bitch when you've got as many enemies as I do."

I remain silent, knowing he's not finished.

"But with you..." He looks down at me, and for a second, I see something genuine break through that carefully constructed facade. "With you, Cariña, I actually sleep for what feels like the first time."

I grab his jaw, pulling his face to mine, and in an instant, our lips collide. It's fierce, a rush of need and desire, as though the world outside this room doesn't exist. His mouth is warm, slightly demanding, but still holding that edge of control that makes me want to test it. My fingers dig into the skin of his jaw as I guide him closer, deepening the kiss. His breath is hotagainst my lips, each exhale mixing with mine in a desperate rhythm.

"Now," he says, that mischievous glint returning to his eyes as he pulls me against his chest once more, "how about we make use of this bed before the day really starts? After all," his lips ghost against my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine, "what's the point of having a pawn if you don't play with her?"

I shiver, my body reacting to him before my mind can catch up. He gently lowers himself toward me, his hands sliding up my thighs as he hovers over me, his green eyes scanning my face like he’s trying to memorize every detail. I can feel the heat of his body, the way his muscles tense and relax as he moves. My heart is racing, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps as I watch him.Is this still a game?I wonder. Or is this something more?

Cast’s fingers trail up my side, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He leans down, his lips brushing against my neck in a kiss that’s almost too soft, too gentle for the storm raging inside me. I arch into him, my hands tangling in his hair as I pull him closer, needing more. His teeth graze my skin, and I gasp, my nails digging into his scalp. He chuckles, the sound low and dark, and then his mouth is on mine again, his kiss deeper, more insistent.

His hands are everywhere—on my hips, my waist, my thighs—and I can’t think, can’t breathe. Every touch feels like it’s lighting me up from the inside, like he’s unraveling me piece by piece. His fingers slide under the hem of my nightie, and I moan into his mouth as they brush against the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark with desire, and I can see the faintest hint ofsomething else—something that makes my chest ache in a way I can’t explain.

"Tell me what you want," he murmurs, his voice rough, his fingers teasing the edge of my panties. I bite my lip, my heart pounding in my chest as his fingers dip lower, brushing against the sensitive skin between my legs, and I can’t hold back the moan that escapes my lips.

"Cast," I breathe, my voice trembling. His name feels like a plea, a prayer, and I can see the way it affects him, the way his jaw tightens and his eyes darken. He kisses me again, his mouth hungry, demanding, and then his fingers are sliding under the fabric of my panties, his touch deliberate, teasing. I gasp, my hips lifting off the bed as he brushes against me, his fingers exploring me with a slow, torturous rhythm.

"You’re so wet," he murmurs against my lips, his voice thick with desire. His fingers dip lower, circling my clit in a way that makes my entire body tense. I moan, my hands clutching at his shoulders as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge. His touch is expert, knowing exactly where to press, how to move, and I can feel myself unraveling under his hands.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice low and rough, and I do, my eyes meeting his as he watches me fall apart. There’s something in his gaze, something that feels like it’s reaching into the very core of me, and I can’t look away. His fingers move faster, harder, and I can feel the tension building inside me, coiling tighter and tighter until I feel like I might break.

"Cast," I gasp, my voice breaking as the first wave of pleasure crashes over me. My body trembles, my nails digging into his skin as I ride out the waves, his fingers never stopping, never slowing. He watches me with an intensity that feels almost toomuch, his eyes never leaving mine as I come undone under his touch.

When the tremors finally subside, he pulls his hand away, his fingers glistening, and I can see the smug satisfaction in his eyes. I bite my lip looking at his fingers shining with me.

He clicks his tongue, “You dirtied me up, Cariña.”

“I’m so sorry sir,” I whisper, my eyes trained on the way I shine on his fingers and lips.

His fingers drag over my bottom lip, “Are you going to clean me up, pretty girl?”

I lean forward, my heart pounding as I bring my lips closer to his fingers. Slowly, I trace my tongue over the pads of his fingers, feeling the coolness of his skin mixed with the lingering warmth of me. The taste of him and me mixes on my tongue, the saltiness from his skin and the sweet slick honey of my release. I can't help but savor it, my eyes flickering up to meet his darkened stare as I clean him off, each pass of my tongue slow, deliberate.

His fingers tremble slightly as I move down to the next one, flicking my tongue across the tips, the soft pressure of my lips wrapping around each digit, sucking gently. The flavor of me coats my tongue, each taste making the desire burn hotter, my body moving closer without even realizing it, as if I'm being pulled toward him, helpless to the way he makes me feel.

"Don’t stop on my account."

The words hit me like a bucket of ice water, pulling me out of the haze. I freeze, my lips still on his fingers as my head snaps up in shock. Standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the wall, is Damien looking at me with the heat of a thousandsuns, and a smile so smug I feel an urge to crawl to him for worship.

“Why the fuck are you here Damien?” Cast groans into the curve of my neck obviously annoyed that we were interrupted.

"I thought I’d take our girl out on a date," Damien says with a lazy shrug, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, his smirk just shy of wicked.

I shoot up so fast I nearly get whiplash, my grin stretching so wide it makes my cheeks ache—but I can't help it. "Really?"

"Yeah, Trouble," he drawls, amusement lacing his voice. "And I’ll pick up where Cast left off."

Before Cast can launch himself at him, Damien chuckles and ducks behind the door just as a pillow flies across the room. "Pendejo," Cast grumbles, still sprawled out on the bed, frustration written all over his face.

Giggling, I slide out of Cast’s arms, darting toward his private bathroom, already buzzing with excitement.

"Cariña," Cast growls, voice dark with warning, "I’ll punish you later if you leave me here with blue balls."

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