Page 269 of Ruins
And I let him.
This is what he needs. I leap into his arms and let him bite and kiss my blood-stained skin. The taste of copper on my lips and the slickness of his tongue mixing with mine, the brush of his rough palms against my skin, all meld together in a symphony that overwhelms my senses. The feeling of his teeth grazing my skin only adds to our intimate communion, heightens the intensity. In this moment, I am completely consumed by him, byus,as the scent of blood becomes our synchronicity and takes over all other sensations.
He carries me into the bathroom, kicking off his shoes once we’re inside. He kisses me roughly, then sets me down only to strip away his clothes, his eyes never leaving their feast on my body. I pull down my shorts and let the remaining shreds of my tank top fall to the ground.
He’s wounded. I take in his blood-slicked chest, the fresh cuts painting his torso and arms in streaks of crimson. But my gaze is pulled lower, to the thick, rigid length of him, harder than I’ve ever seen. He’s pure tension, all muscle and dominance, and there’s no time to process, no time to tend to his wounds. I don’t even get to take a step, he doesn’t give me any time, with a swift and forceful move, he turns me towards the full-length mirror, my body colliding with the cool surface. The cool glass soothes my bruised cheek for a fleeting second—before he seizes my arms, locking them behind me with one unyielding grip. There’s no warning, no hesitation, just the blunt, harden head of his cock pressing against my entrance before he drives inside, tearing a gasp from my throat.
My vision blurs, the taste of copper still lingering on my tongue as his other hand snakes up to grip my neck, holding me steady as he begins to move. The rhythmic thrusts match the pounding of my bloodied veins, sending shivers down my spine and causing whimpers to echo in the tiled room.
A rough groan rips from his throat as he wrenches me back to the ottoman, dragging me onto his lap, in one swift motion. The sudden shift has me gasping, his cock still buried deep. I barely manage to swing my legs over his hips before he grips me tighter, his cock splitting me wide as he thrusts up into me. The mirror before us reflects the raw obscenity of it—the way I’m stretched around him, the possessive hand tight around my throat, the blood streaked over our skin like war paint. Every movement sends waves of pleasure and pain through my body, and I can’t help but moan in ecstasy.
His grip is brutal, each thrust dragging me down harder, deeper, until my vision whites out in bursts of blinding stars. I’m losing myself in him, unraveling, and he’s right there to pull me back under. I can barely breathe, let alone think, and yet, my mind is filled with him, consumed by every sensation he elicits in me.
“You’re mine,”he hisses in my ear before sinking his teeth into the juncture where my neck meets my shoulder. His statement, delivered with such raw possessiveness sends a shockwave through me, setting every nerve ending on fire. My lips part with a gasp and I’m captivated by the raw display of dominancy and surrender. The sight of Scythe, all muscle and sinew, every motion a testament to his raw strength and unmasked desire… it isintoxicating.
“Look at us,” he growls lowly into my ear. His eyes are wild and dilated in the mirror. The blood-soaked image of us reflected back is an explicit tableau of dark passion painting a vivid picture of raw desire, a lurid, almost grotesque display of carnality that both shocks and thrills me.
His bare skin, marred with cuts and drying blood, presses against my back as he pulls me in, whispering my name like a prayer between growls and grunts. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through me, taking over every thought and feeling until I am consumed by him once more.
“Scythe,” I gasp out, tears pooling at the corners of my eyes and running down my cheeks as I feel his grip on my neck tighten further, the pressure intensifying, and I’m gasping for breath. His grip tightens just as his thrusts grow wild, desperate, his body vibrating with the force of it. Then—suddenly, he’s gone, pulling out in one ruthless motion. I whimper, the loss of him a visceral ache, my body still clenching around nothing. He stands and turns me in his arms, I barely wrap my arms around him before I’m seated on the edge of the sink counter. His hands roam my body, smearing more blood on every inch of me with an intensity that leaves my skin trailing with goosebumps. The cool marble beneath me is no match for the heat coursing through my body as Scythe’s mouth claims mine.
“Vasilisa,” his voice is low and rumbling, “I need you to scream for me,” he commands, his voice a low growl as he pushes himself inside me, eliciting the scream he desired, each thrust harder and more forceful than the last. I cling to his arms, my nails digging into his skin to keep my fingers from slipping as he drives into me. My eyes squeeze shut, surrendering to the onslaught of sensation.
“Look at me,” he growls, gripping my hips with bruising force as he thrusts inside me harder. I cry out in pain and pleasure, unable to suppress the sounds that escape my lips. Scythe shows no mercy, relentlessly driving into me until I feel like I will split apart. He doesn’t give me a moment to adjust, each movement causing waves of intense sensations that leave me trembling and somehow begging for more. His eyes lock on mine and all I can focus on is the slick sounds of our bodies, colliding, the raw, unfiltered proof of our connection. One hand slides up from my hip, grazing my stomach and up the valley of my breast before settling on my neck again and he squeezes lightly, his hold more possessive than threatening. I can feel his pulse roaring in my ears, matching the drumming rhythm of my own heart. He continues his hard thrusts, his eyes holding mine captive. All I can feel ishim.
A shaky whimper escapes me, the sheer intensity of his gaze making my breath hitch. He tightens his grip around my neck in response, not enough to harm, but enough for me to know I am completely under his control.
“Scythe,” I whimper out, closing my eyes as ecstasy overwhelms me. He groans, his thrusts becoming even more fierce and savage. His fingers dig into my flesh, branding me with invisible marks that only we will know.
“Mine,” he grates out, the words a mantra in time with the rhythm of our bodies crashing together. His movements grow erratic again, and this time I’m just as close as he is.
But he pulls out again and leaves me hanging on the edge of climax. My body throbs at the loss of him and a feeble protest escapes my lips. Before I can even form a plea, I’m weightless—flipped onto my stomach with a force that steals my breath. With a sharp gasp I brace myself against the cool, hard surface as he re-enters me from behind, his cock feeling deeper than it’s ever been, the fullness of his depth bringing forth an ecstasy teetering on pain. He’s using my body as he sees fit and every part of me relishes in complete surrender. His hands grip my hips once more, anchoring me as he finds a steady, relentless rhythm. Each thrust drives my body forward along the cool marble, the friction between us and the chilled countertop a symphony of sensation that leaves my head spinning.
“Open your eyes,” he demands, his tone forceful yet laced with an undercurrent of pleading. I do, my gaze meeting his in the mirror before us. The sight that greets me is almost too much to bear— his powerful blood stained form looming over mine, muscles rippling with each thrust, his eyes reflecting a storm of desire and possession. It’s raw and primal, a blatant reminder of the deep connection between us that’s far more than just physical.
I moan out his name as he suddenly alters his angle, hitting a spot within me that sees stars exploding behind my eyelids again. “Scythe,” I whimper, my fingers clutching at the countertop in an attempt to ground myself amidst the whirlwind of pleasure threatening to sweep me off my feet.
“Say it,” he growls, punctuating each word with a brutal snap of his hips, forcing the air from my lungs. His demand hangs in the air between us. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m-” My mind fumbles for words as he continues to drive into me relentlessly. My vision sways dangerously as I climax, pleasure coursing through my veins like lightning.
“I’m… yours,” I gasp out just as another wave crashes over me.
Silence lingers for a moment before his rough, dark chuckle fills the air.
“That’s my girl,” he grunts approvingly before his movements become uncoordinated and more frantic. His fingers dig into my hips, his grip tightening to the point of pain as he reaches his peak with a guttural groan. The sight of his pleasure-stricken face in the mirror pushes me over the edge again, my body tensing as another powerful orgasm rips through me.
His grip slackens, and he collapses against me, our bodies a tangled mess of sweat and blood, breathless and spent.
The haze of pleasure dulls to a warm hum, leaving me wrapped in Scythe’s arms. His lips ghost along my neck, whispering low, reverent things that make me shiver despite the exhaustion pulling at my limbs. I let out a breathless, dazed giggle—because for the first time tonight, the storm inside him has settled.
“You are my everything.Mine,” he whispers. I nod, too spent to speak as I close my eyes, but the sentiment is clear. I am his and he is mine. Santo and Scythe in perfect harmony.
Chapter 54
Santo
Finally.Iamfinallymyself; I can be both monster and man and still have her love. In my arms I look down at my wife, bloody smears are all over her beautiful body. I cradle her gently and her eyes flutter open, her perfect face marred by my blood, her neck and shoulders bruised by the bites I left on her skin, she’s bathed in my blood as if in a ritualistic binding, the possession I feel for her... at having her filled and covered completely with me isoverwhelming.
