Page 242 of Ruins
“Boss?” a familiar voice calls from outside the office – it’s Luca.
Santo takes a shaky breath before responding though gritted teeth “Yes?”
“I have news.”
“Just a moment Luca,” Santo grits out, his patience razor-thin. His gaze locks onto mine, pupils blown wide with hunger. Instead of speaking, he simply tilts his chin down- an unspoken order.
Placing his hands on either side of my face, he guides my mouth back to his throbbing cock. I nod in silent consent, knowing he intends to use my mouth to find release.
I relax my jaw, tilting my head back as he pushes inside. The taste of salt and heat floods my tongue, the scent of his desire wrapping around me, intoxicating,inescapable. A choked sound escapes me as he thrusts deeper, but he only tightens his grip, holding me still as he takes what he needs. My fingers dig into his thighs, feeling the sharp flex of muscle beneath my palms. I breathe through my nose, keeping my lips tight around him, letting him use me as he pleases.
“Look at me.” Santo’s voice is rough, almost guttural. I do, lifting my gaze as he watches me—completely wrecked, yet completely in control. His movements turn erratic, his breath coming faster, sharper, until finally, with a ragged groan, he shatters. I do my best to swallow it all down, feeling a sense of satisfaction in pleasing him. As he slowly pulls out, a warm trail escapes, sliding down my chin. I catch it with a finger, licking it up deliberately, meeting his gaze as I do. Santo’s jaw flexes, his nostrils flaring—his hunger barely sated.
“You’re fucking perfect.” Santo exhales, his voice still hoarse. His gaze drags over me, dark and heavy with promise. “As soon as Luca’s gone, you’re mine.”
Santo exhales deeply, raggedly, running a hand through his hair before adjusting his clothes, tucking himself back in. He straightens his tie, pulling himself together piece by piece. “He has theworstfucking timing,” he mutters, grabbing his phone to unlock the door
“Come in,” he calls out after a moment, his voice back to its usual confident, commanding tone.
As I hear the office door open, I remain hidden under the desk, my heart pounding with adrenaline and excitement at our little secret.
“We have the audio, Beaumont forwarded it to you, and Sarkisian is in the city,” Luca announces. I hear something light hit the desk.
“The city?” Santo’s head snaps up, his brows furrowing sharply. He flips through papers, his movements quick, impatient.
“Yes. He’s not even trying to hide.” Luca’s tone is grim, certain. “We need to send Katya and Vasilisa to a safe house. Immediately.”
“Excuse me?!” I blurt, shoving against the desk to stand—only to slam my head on the way up. Santo pulls his chair back as I scramble to get out from under the desk rubbing the top of my head.
Luca stares, his expression flickering between horrified and deeply, deeply regretful. “What the hell were you—“ His face scrunches. “You know what? Forget I asked.”
Santo chuckles and my anger rises.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“This isn’t up for debate,” Luca says, his voice hard as steel, his frown deepening. “You have to leave. End of story.”
“The hell I do!” I snap back, my fists clenched at my sides.
Santo’s hands firmly catch my waist, lifting me onto his lap before I can lash out again. His grip is steady, unmovable, keeping me close. “I won’t decide anything without your say, Dea. But you need to breathe.”
I inhale sharply, my arms crossing tightly over my chest, my nails digging into my sleeves. My eyes burn into Luca, my whole body rigid with frustration—but the slow circles Santo traces on my reddened knees start to unravel me, little by little.
Chapter 48
Santo
There’sawayVasilisa’seyes burn when she’s angry—a wildfire licking at the edges of an unforgiving winter. It’s beautiful.Maddening.Magnetic. A force meant to consume or command, and I don’t know which I want more.
She’s wound tight in my lap, every muscle humming with restraint, thrumming against my control. When she finally turns those smoldering eyes onto me, I see a twinge of irritation but also defiance. It makes my heart swell with something akin topride.
Luca shifts his weight, exhaling through his nose like he’d rather be anywhere else. Vasilisa pins him in place with a look, and for once, he doesn’t have a smart remark.
“I don’t want to hide,” she finally breaks the silence, her voice low and surly. “I want to stay here.”
“You don’t know Sarkisian like we do, Vasi,” Luca interjects and immediately regrets it as she shoots him an icy glare.
She turns her focus on me, sharp and unyielding. “I’m not made of glass, Santo. I don’t shatter.”
