Page 226 of Ruins
My hands roam over the smooth curve of her back, memorizing every inch of what’s mine.
My wife is flawless, perfect in every way.
She continues to ride my cock, and my hands wander from the contours of her waist to the swell of her breasts. Her breath hitches at the contact and a shudder runs through her. Encouraged by her reaction, I knead her breasts gently at first until my need for control takes over again.
She gasps, startled, as my grip tightens—too hard, too desperate. But the sound that follows isn’t protest; it’s a moan, and it sends a sharp pulse of need straight through me.
“That’s it…” The words escape from my lips before I can stop them. Seeing her in this state of disarray is making it hard to hold on to any of my restraint… to hold back Scythe.
Her movements become more frantic now. Her fingers claw at my chest as if searching for something to anchor herself. Her nails drag along the skin of my chest leaving trails of red behind them. A mix of pain and pleasure shoots through me causing me to buck underneath her. She gasps and digs her nails in harder, a flash of mischievousness in those gorgeous eyes.
Control slips through my fingers like sand, and suddenly he’s there—Scythe, clawing at the edges, demanding to take. I fist my hand in her hair, pulling her down into a searing kiss—one meant to distract, to claim. And before she can react, I move, rolling her beneath me in one fluid motion. Now under me, she looks up at me, with questioning eyes.
“Yes, keep those eyes on me,” I command roughly. She nods, holding my gaze with those lust-filled eyes of hers. The sight is enough to send shivers down my spine. The weight of her submission, the way she gives herself to me so completely—it’s intoxicating. It makes me feel invincible.Unstoppable.
I resume my thrusts, this time harder. She screams out in pleasure, her body shuddering violently beneath mine as the first wave of climax hits her. Seeing her unravel like that is the most satisfying sight. I continue pounding into her, extending her climax until she’s crying out in overstimulated pleasure. She’s trembling and gasping for air but there’s pure ecstasy painted on her face.
I become lost in her pleasure, driven by the sounds of her uninhibited cries, the feel of her dripping pussy tightening around me, and the sight of her beneath me as she falls apart. With a final, desperate thrust, I reach my own climax, gritting out a broken groan as my body succumbs to my release.
She collapses beneath me, her body spent, trembling, completely mine. I hover over her, watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the flush staining her skin. She’s breathtaking like this.Wrecked for me.Her face is flushed; waves of heat radiate from her skin, mixing with the cool air around us. Slowly and yet reluctantly, I withdraw from her body and kneel before her.
She winces.
A flicker—so quick I almost miss it. But it’s there. And suddenly, nothing else exists.
Shewinced.
Scythehurther.
Ihurt her.
The thought slams into me, a fist to the ribs, stealing my breath.
My hands tremble, unsteady, unsure as I brush a stray lock of hair from her face. She’s watching me with dazed, but still trusting eyes. There’s no accusation in them, no blame, but I can’t help but feel as if I’ve crossed a line. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry.
“Are you okay?” The question escapes even though it sounds absurd. It’s a little too late for that.
She offers me a weak smile. “More than okay,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. Her fingers find mine and she interlaces our hands together, squeezing gently.
“No, I mean...” I trail off, unable to vocalize my concern. My gaze falls on the red trails left by her nails on my chest, then to her breasts and hips reddened from where I had gripped too hard.
Her eyes widen, and before I can retreat into my own mind, she’s reaching for me, cupping my face in her hands—soft, grounding, real. “I wanted this, everysecondof it.”
Her words seep into me, slow and warm, a lifeline against the guilt threatening to pull me under. She pulls me in, and I let her pull me down beside her as I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. She sighs and cuddles up to my chest. Scythe doesn’t belong here. Not withher. Not in this bed, not in the softness of our world. He doesn’t fit. And yet, I can still feel him, lurking,waiting, a shadow that refuses to fade.
“Vasilisa,” I begin, my voice barely above a whisper. “Do you remember the lake? When I told you that after my mother died, I became someone I never wanted to be? That Ihurtpeople?”
Vasilisa meets my gaze and nods, her fingers tracing the faint red lines she left on my chest
“That’s Scythe,” I confess, the words tasting like ash. “He’s ruthless. Violent. He has no place near you.”
Her hand roaming my chest feels like a lifeline, her touch grounding me in reality as I grapple with my darker self within.
“Santo,” she says softly, her fingers stilling over my chest. “I’ve known aboutScythe.”
I blink. “You have?” Surprise flickers through me, tightening my chest.
“Yes.” She shrugs, casual, unbothered. “You kill your enemies. So does Maksim.”
