Page 17 of Ruined By the Enemy
It falters with a long, drawn quiver as I slip a finger inside her and then another, curling slowly, watching the way her mouth falls open, how she clings to me like I’m the only thing keeping her upright.
Like she’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart and the reason I’m so close to losing it all.
Her head falls on my shoulder, and her nipples brush against my shirt, dragging moans from deep inside her.
She’s unraveling fast, and I feel it in the way her body clamps around my fingers, in the wild, almost frantic roll of her hips, chasing friction, chasing relief.
And I give it to her.
I press harder, faster, flicking my thumb over her clit as her breath catches on a sharp cry. She clutches at me like she’s falling, her whole body tensing as the climax rips through her.
Her moan tears out of her throat like a sob, and I hold her through it, mouth on hers, drinking her down until she melts against me, limp and trembling.
But we’re far from done.
Not even close.
I flip her over, her nipples pressed to the cold wall as I cover her with my body. My thighs brace against both sides of her legs, and I tilt my hips, grinding on her ass.
She exhales heavily as she arches into me, her hips rocking—slow at first, a teasing rhythm that sends a deep ache spiraling through me. But then she picks up the tempo, grinding against me with purpose, with hunger, and I swear it hits something primal. My jaw clenches, and my thoughts scatter like dust.
And then her hand slips between us.
She palms me through my pants, her touch bold and maddening, stroking slow, deliberate patterns over the thick length of my arousal. I hiss through my teeth, hips bucking involuntarily into her palm.
Touching her already felt like drowning, being pulled under something too powerful to fight. But this—her hands on me—undoes me completely.
My head dips, forehead pressing to shoulders as I struggle for breath, my fingers digging into her hips. “You’re killing me,” I groan, my voice wrecked and raw. “Hell, Sophie. What are you?”
Cupping her chin roughly and tilting her head to the side, I press my lips to hers again. The kiss is deeper this time andmessier, with the sound of her body slapping against mine and her moans bouncing off the walls.
She turns, facing me with a gleam in her eyes. Her fingers get through my zipper, and with only a tiny barrier between us, each stroke from her fist firmer than the last, I’m certain I won’t last much longer.
I need to feel her—really feel her.
The words that tear from my throat when she pushes the last piece of fabric away, her fist pushing from the tip of my dick to the base, are incoherent and meaningless.
They push through as I cup her face and brush my lips to hers, nipping her bottom lip. My palms cradle her breasts, teasing them while she pushes me to the point where pleasure becomes pain.
I break the kiss just long enough to pull her toward the couch, my grip firm and unrelenting. I drop onto it with a grunt and drag her with me, watching her as she moves—wild hair, swollen lips, skin flushed from the heat building between us.
She climbs onto my lap, and my breath punches out of me in one sharp, guttural exhale the moment she straddles me.Skin to skin, heat to heat.
In the middle of being wrecked, I find one logical thought: it explains everything—her recklessness in confronting me and her ability to go undercover.
My hands settle on her thigh as I look up at her—chest rising and falling, eyes dark and locked on mine, mouth parted like she’s halfway between a gasp and a moan.
And then she sinks down.
Fuck.
She takes me inch by inch, with aching patience as her body adjusts—tight, wet, pulsing around me. My head drops back, jaw clenched, a raw curse dragging from my throat.
She rolls her hips once, testing the rhythm, and I nearly lose it right there.
Her palms brace on my chest, but her eyes never leave mine. It’s not just lust—it’s a challenge. A dare.Watch me ruin you.
“Look at you,” I grin as my gaze darkens. “You think you can take me?”
