Page 28 of Ruthless God

His grip tightens even more. The feeling is both disorienting and intoxicating. My body tenses, wanting to move, but I’m rooted in place by the weight of the moment. By the surge of something deep inside me that tells me to wait, to see where this will go.

“Do you understand what you’ve started?” he says, his voice low and almost a growl, full of dark amusement.

I swallow hard, my throat dry, but I can’t answer. But my body speaks before my mind can catch up, drawn in by something I don’t fully understand, but can’t resist. I arch into him, and that’s all it takes.

He lets out a low groan. “Fuck.”

His calloused fingers graze my skin as they move, the roughness of them a stark contrast to the smoothness of the fabric. I hold my breath, waiting for the next move, the next moment to unfold. The tension between us pulls taut like a wire, stretching, winding tighter with every passing second.

I try to move, to shift, but my body betrays me. I stay frozen in place, unable to do anything but feel the intensity of the moment. His touch, deliberate and slow, drags over my waistband, each movement deliberate, each second dragging out the anticipation.

My pulse races in my ears. It’s not just fear—it’s a mix of something darker, something I can’t quite name, but it makes my chest tight and my stomach churn. My thoughts scatter, frantically trying to find something to hold on to, but everything feels distant, blurred by the overwhelming presence of him.

It’s not just the physical closeness, the way his fingers inch closer to the edge of my comfort zone. It’s the knowledge that he’s in control, that I don’t know what’s coming next, that I can’t predict his every move.

I can feel him watching me, studying me, waiting for a reaction, for some sign of what’s going on inside me. But I don’t know what to show him. The pressure builds, unbearable and intense, like a storm threatening to break. I can’t decide if I want to pull away or if I want to see how far this tension will stretch before it snaps.

“Please,” I beg again.

And then he gives me what I crave. My shorts are yanked down along with my panties. He enters me in a thrust so hard that I fall forward onto my elbows. Something snaps between us and we go feral for each other. It’s raw and animalistic and everything I never knew I needed. At one point, he pulls out, flipping me over onto my back. Seeing him from this angle with the mask still on sends a ripple of heat through me and when he slides back into me, I scream.

“Fuck.”

“That’s right, mama. Let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

Our bodies move in perfect rhythm, instinct guiding every motion. The intensity builds, raw and relentless, pushing me toward the brink faster than I can control. It’s primal. Pleasure laced with a sweet ache that leaves me gasping. But he doesn’t stop. He takes and takes, driven by his own hunger, until nothing else exists but this fevered chase for release.

I know he’s close by the way his movements become more uncontrolled, his grip tightening, his breath ragged against my skin.

“Wait,” I pant, desperation threading through my voice. “I’m not on birth control.”

He stills for only a fraction of a second.

“Maybe that’s part of my plan,” he grunts back. “To put a baby in you.”

A shiver runs down my spine. Partly out of fear, partly something darker, something dangerously intoxicating. My heart hammers in my chest as his pace quickens again, relentless, claiming. My mind wars with itself, logic screaming one thing while my body begs for another.

“Tell me no,” he rasps in a challenge, in a dare.

“Tell me your name,” I counter.

A war rages between us, neither of us willing to break. When I clench around him, he curses, low and deep.

“Fuck. It’s Gabriel.”

“Put a baby in me,Gabriel,” I moan, the words spilling out before I can stop them.

We both shatter at the same time. Heat consumes me, pleasure rippling through every nerve as he buries himself deeper, as if branding me from the inside out. My body trembles in his grasp, held steady only by the sheer force of him.

Without thinking, my hands move on their own, reaching up. My fingers curl around the edges of his mask, and before he can stop me, I pull it away.

A sharp breath hitches in my throat.

His piercing blue gaze locks onto mine with an intensity that sends a shiver racing down my spine. He doesn’t just look at me—he sees me, strips me bare with nothing but the weight of his stare.

Raw power. Ruthless control.

The sharp angles of his jaw, the dark, trimmed beard that only adds to his lethal allure, the slight crease in his brow…everything about him screams danger. Stay away. And yet, I didn’t. I couldn’t.

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