Page 113 of Ruthless Redemption

She devours me. Savage. Starving. Then frantically tussles with the top buttons of her blouse, swipes the material over her head and throws it to the floor.

“Slow,mia dea.” I grab her waist. “I want to savor you.”

“And I want to fuck you.” She slams her lips back on mine. Crazed. Mindless.

I’m a slave to her demands.

I let her fumble with my belt, releasing the clasp as I casually loosen my tie.

“Why do you do that?” She unfastens the button on my pants.

“Do what?” I pull the slip of material over my head, keeping hold of it while I palm her ass.

She moans, her eyes rolling. “Publicize our sex life.”

I grin. “Because,mia dea,it’s a sin to hide a beauty like yours, and I’ve already earned enough tickets into hell.”

“So sharing me with the world is your penance?”

It’s more than that. It’s my validation. My proof of worth.

Without her, I’m nothing.

“Sharing you is my salvation.”

She looks at me as if I’ve told her the secret to life. Amazed and captivated. “You say such pretty things.”

She lowers my zipper. Delves beneath my waistband. As soon as her touch grazes my cock, I tense, every inch of me already prepared to explode.

“I said, slow,la mia piccola sporcacciona.” I snatch her hands, making her gasp. “Don’t make me restrain you.”

21

LAYLA

“We can savor later.”I nuzzle his nose, snaking my hand inside his boxer briefs to palm his shaft.

He’s so incredibly hard. Thick.

I need him inside me.

“Not this time.” He grabs my wrists, clamping them together. “We’re taking it slow.”

“Please.” I sweep my hips against his.

“Slow, Layla.” He uses his tie to bind my wrists, the silk tight against my skin as he weaves the material in, out, and around.

“But I need you.” I attempt to distract him with my mouth on his neck. His stubbled jaw. I work my way up to his ear and whisper, “I want you fucking me so damn hard.”

A hint of a growl emanates from his throat. Feral and fierce.

He stands, making me squeal as I’m hefted upward, his arm cradling my ass when he turns to place me on the mattress.

“You’ll get that soon enough.” He crouches, removing my shoes with leisurely care, giving my cravings time to smolder.

Next, it’s my socks. Then those talented hands are gripping my waistband, tugging me close to the edge of the bed to wrangle my jeans. He strips me, dragging the restricting material down my thighs as I flop backward and wiggle to speed things up.

My jeans are thrown to the floor while his gaze fixates on the apex of my thighs.

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