Page 220 of Ruins
Chapter 42
Vasilisa
Santo’stongueisamasterstroke of pleasure, invading my mouth with a slow and deliberate dominance that leaves me breathless. His taste is intoxicating. I taste the lingering remnants of myself on his mouth, it is a heady and arousing sensation that only adds to the intoxicating experience.
Santo’s gaze meets mine, dark with a mixture of love and lust. My arms instinctively wrap around him, my fingers tracing the sculpted muscles on his back. He looks at me with reverence, as if I am a gift he can’t believe he has been given.
His cock is pressed firmly against me, reminding me of the promise of what’s to come. My lips part for a gasp as he rubs himself against my sensitive clit, grinding slowly.
“Keep your eyes on me.” His voice is a velvet command, soft yet unyielding.
The moment he pushes inside me, my breath catches. The stretch is unfamiliar, a sharp sting that flares for only a second before his lips find mine again, his kiss swallowing any sound of discomfort. His fingers thread through my hair, cradling me, treating me like I am something fragile.
But I am not.
I want this.I want him.
The discomfort fades as quickly as it came, replaced by the overwhelming sense of him—ofus—and how right this feels. Each inch seals the claim he has on me and my breath hitches as he fills me completely. Santo stills, allowing me to adjust to the stretch. I become hyper-aware of every nerve ending, every sensation. His hands soothing over my skin, his lips trailing reverent kisses down my throat as he starts to move.
The first slow thrust steals the air from my lungs.
The second ignites something I cannot name.
The third destroys me.
He pulls back, sliding almost all the way out before pushing back into me again. A deep moan spills from my lips, my body arching into him, seeking more, needing everything he has to give. His scent surrounds me—spicy, warm, unmistakably Santo—and I bury my face into his neck, clinging to him as if I might shatter from the sheer intensity of it all.
His movements are torturously slow, every stroke measured, every roll of his hips deliberate, drawing me deeper into the heat, the hunger between us. His fingers slide down my body, skimming over my breasts, tracing the curve of my waist before settling on my hip. He holds me there, guiding our bodies together in a rhythm that is both gentle and devastating.
Then his thumb finds my clit.
A bolt of lightning shoots through me, my body seizing at the exquisite pleasure. A startled cry leaves my lips, my back arching off the bed as he circles it in lazy, knowing strokes.
Santo chuckles against my skin, the sound dark and satisfied.
“My girl likes that, doesn’t she?” His voice is a low murmur against my ear, followed by the teasing scrape of his teeth over my earlobe.
I can’t speak. I can’t think.
I can onlyfeel.
All I can do is moan, lost in the sensations flooding me. His thumb continues to work magic on my clit as he thrusts deeper into me.
The fire inside me now an inferno that threatens to consume us both. But Santo’s slow, deliberate strokes only fuel the flames, each one sending sparks of ecstasy through my body until I’m lost in a haze of molten desire coursing through my veins sparking a jolt of pleasure that consumes me.
“You feel perfect, Dea,” he groans, his voice thick with desire, reverberating through me. “Your body was made for mine,” his words echo in the room, they aren’t just desire— they feel like a vow.
A whimper escapes me, my body tightening around him, every muscle trembling under the sheer force of pleasure. My eyes flutter shut, but Santo’s voice pulls me back.
“Look at me.”
The command is gentle but firm.
I open my eyes, and what I see unravels me.
Raw, unfiltered devotion.
Not just lust. Not just possession.
