Page 160 of Ruins
She moans into my mouth, her hands exploring the hard planes of my back, nails dragging just enough to make me shudder. My lips travel down the delicate column of her throat, leaving goosebumps in their wake as I trace patterns with my tongue, savoring the taste of her skin. Each gasp, each soft plea that spills from her lips urges me on, consuming me with the need to devour her completely.
Between kisses, I murmur against her flushed skin, “How many fingers did you use?”
She gasps, a sharp inhale that makes me smirk against her throat. “What?” she breathes, her voice a mix of confusion and anticipation.
I answer by dragging my lips lower, my tongue flicking over the swell of her breast before I take one pert, pink peak into my mouth. She arches instantly, a breathless moan slipping free as her fingers tangle in my hair, holding me to her.
I release her with a graze of my teeth, my lips brushing over her heated skin as I murmur, “How many fingers did you use when you touched yourself tonight?”
A shudder courses through her. “Iknewyou were watching,” she whispers, her voice trembling as I swirl my tongue around her other nipple, watching her eyes go hazy with pleasure.
I bite down gently, just enough to have her gasping and pulling at my hair. “Answer me,” I command, my voice low and demanding.
Her lips part, a whimper slipping past them. “Two,” she moans, her honesty making something dark and possessive coil in my gut.
“That’s my girl.” The praise rolls off my tongue like a reward, and the way she shivers makes me crave more.
Trailing kisses lower, I let my fingers ghost down her stomach, teasing the lace at her hips. “Did you clean up after you came?” My voice is nothing but sinful heat against her skin. “Or are you still soaked for me?”
Her breath stutters.
“I’m still…” She hesitates, her voice barely audible.
I lift my head, arching a brow. Still what, Vasilisa?
“For you.”
A dark chuckle rumbles in my chest. “Such a naughty girl,” I murmur, hooking my fingers beneath her panties and dragging them down, slow, torturous.
She shivers. Anticipation flickers in her wide, lust-blown eyes.
I trail my fingers along the inside of her thigh, light as a whisper, teasing her. Watching as she squirms, her breath hitching, her body already desperate for more.
She takes in a sharp breath when I reach the apex of her thighs. I part her, spreading her open with my fingers.
Dripping. Slick. Perfect.
“You weren’t lying,” I husk, groaning at the feel of her. Hot. Wet. Mine. “You really are soaked for me.”
She watches me, chest heaving, pupils blown. Her body is ready, but I won’t rush. I won’t let her have what she wants so easily.
Slowly—achingly slowly—I slide a single finger inside her.
She gasps, hips lifting to meet me, her hands fisting the sheets as I start to move, pressing my thumb against her clit in lazy, teasing circles.
“Did you imagine it was me?” My voice is husky, dark, my need dripping from every syllable.
She whimpers, her thighs trembling.
I push deeper.
Her breath catches, her nails digging into my shoulders, her body responding to my touch like it was made for me.
“Yes.”
My restraint shatters.
I slide another finger inside her, curling them just right—just enough to have her choking on a moan, her walls clamping around me.
