Page 112 of Ruthless God

And the prize is him. Snapping.

Heat flares beneath my skin, spreading everywhere at once. But I don’t look away and I don’t back down.

His jaw tenses. His control wavers just for a second. Then he moves. Fast. Before I can react, I’m on my back, sinking into the blanket, the warmth of the sand underneath me.

Claudius hovers above me, his hands braced on either side of my head, his knee wedged dangerously between mine.

His breath fans over my skin, his body heat pressing into me.

My stomach flips. Because this is new.

This isn’t the teasing, measured Claudius. This is the man who’s been holding back. And he’s done waiting.

“You like pushing me, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice so deep that I nearly shudder.

I swallow. “Maybe.”

His lips curl into a slow smirk. “Then let’s see how much you can take.”

His mouth captures mine, rough and consuming, stealing the air from my lungs.

I melt. I forget the game. Forget the teasing. Forget everything but him.

His hand slides up my thigh, fingers pressing just hard enough to make me ache. I gasp, and he swallows the sound, deepening the kiss, his body pressing me into the soft warmth beneath us. There’s no more distance. No more hesitation.

Only heat. Need. Hunger. Only him.

He hovers above me, his breath heavy, uneven, his restraint finally gone.

“You wanted to play, Cecely?” His voice is a growl against my lips, taunting me. “Then let’s play.”

His hips press into mine, his body a solid weight, a perfect trap. I gasp, my nails digging into his back, pulling him closer, because the ache building inside me is too much.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, rolling his hips again, sending a sharp, delicious pulse through me.

I nod, biting my lip, already trembling beneath him.

“Say it.”

His fingers skate under the hem of my shorts, teasing, pushing, exploring.

“I feel it,” I breathe, arching against him.

His chuckle is dark, filled with satisfaction.

“Good.”

Then he stops teasing.

His hands make quick work of what little clothing is left between us, the warm night air a whisper against my newlyexposed skin. He takes his time, his gaze drinking me in, his touch firm, unrelenting. By the time he positions himself between my thighs, my breath is coming too fast, my body already on fire.

And then he pushes inside.

I shatter.

A gasp, a sharp intake of breath, a broken sound as he fills me, stretching me, making me feel every inch of him. Claudius curses under his breath, his hands gripping my hips so tight I swear I’ll have bruises. And I don’t care. I want the marks. I want the reminders.

Because in this moment, nothing else exists. No past, no future. Just this. Just him.

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