Page 241 of Ruins
Santo’s phone vibrates, breaking the moment completely. He retrieves it, his expression hardening at the name on the screen. A video call.
Angelo.
I move to get up, ready to slip out of the room. But before I can, Santo grips my wrist.
“No, I don’t want to be on camera,” I whine. He ignores me.
He presses accept. I groan, dropping to the floor and crawling under his desk for privacy.
“Little brother,” Angelo’s voice fills the space. I hear Santo’s low chuckle as he glances down, his amused gaze locking with mine.
“Have you landed yet?” Santo asks, ignoring the small talk.
I ignore them both. Instead, my fingers trail along the bottom of his desk, stopping at the familiar carving of our initials.
I love that he kept this desk, that he carved his name next to mine. People see Santo as intimidating, ruthless, untouchable—but I know better. Deep down, he’s still the little boy who believes in happily ever after.
“We don’t need a new one, we just got that one last year,” Santo says, frustration laced in his voice.
A slow smile spreads across my lips. I know exactly how to relieve his frustration.
My hands slide up his thighs, teasing at the button of his pants. Santo immediately grabs my wrist, stopping me.
I look up, glaring. He doesn’t say a word—he can’t, not with Angelo still on the call.
But then, his smirk deepens.
With one deliberate movement, he unbuttons his pants, dragging the zipper down.
The act alone sends heat pooling between my thighs. He slides the chair in closer and I pull his cock out of his underwear and grasp it. I’ll never get over how large Santo is – the heavy weight of his cock against my palm, burning hot and pulsing with need as I stroke.
“I’m going to need you to meet me sometime time tomorrow,” I hear Angelo say as I wrap my lips around the head of Santo’s cock.
“Sure,” Santo chokes out.
“You good?” Angelo asks.
“Yeah,” Santo replies as I slowly slide his cock down my throat.
Angelo chuckles, “Tell Tiny I said hi.. unless she’s busy.”
I pull back abruptly, a blush creeping up my neck at being caught in the act. Santo stifles a grunt of protest, trying to keep his cool in the face of his brother’s laughter.
“Will do,” Santo replies, his voice just a fraction too tight. He exhales slowly, fighting to keep control, but when he looks down at me— still hidden beneath his desk, lips glistening, eyes full of need— a smirk finally tugs at his lips.
The call with Angelo finally ends after another couple of minutes, during which I can’t help but return to my previous task. It’s such a turn on to hide under his desk while he carries on an important business conversation acting as if my mouth isn’t full of his cock.
Once the call ends, Santo puts his phone away and lets out a deep sigh of contentment. His hand reaches under the desk to push through my hair, a gentle caress that makes me look up at him in reverence. His eyes are lidded and dark with lust.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Dea,” he groans, fingers tightening in my hair as I pick up pace again before releasing him with a pop.
“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” I tease him with a grin before sliding my mouth over him again. He gasps above me, a sexy shudder making his body tremble.
“Fuck…”he groans, one hand still in my hair while the other grips the armrest of his chair.
He’s teetering on the edge, his thighs tense beneath my palm, breath coming in sharp, ragged pulls. A sharp knock comes suddenly at the door.
Santo goes rigid. We both freeze.
