Page 113 of His to Ruin

He stands as I lie down pulling his jeans and boxer briefs down his hips until they’re on the floor then climbs on top of me, careful to put all his weight on his elbows. He opens my legs wider, lining his cock with my entrance then slowly begins to edge his way inside. His mouth finds mine groaning into our kiss when he pushes all the way into me. We’ve kissed before but this time its soft and gentle.

“I needed this. I needed you,” he rasps softly.

“Take what you need,” I moan, kissing him passionately. He places my hands above my head lacing his fingers into mine, moving in and out of me at a slow torturous pace.

This isn’t the hard and fast body slapping sex we have had before, not that we could even if we wanted with my parents just up the stairs, but it feels different. More intimate and tender like he’s almost afraid he’ll hurt me. His thrusts are slow but deep.

“Eyes on me. Don’t look at anything else but me. I want my face to be the only thing you see when you come.”

In that moment it’s not just about the want of coming, it’s about the want of him coming with me. Together as one.

Keeping my eyes fixed on him the entire time I come harder than I’ve ever came before, and so does he. He doesn’t kiss me or touch me; he stills, hovering over me, watching me with passion and vulnerability. Like he can see into the depths of my soul and the space in it that’s there waiting for him to fill. He only has to reach out and take it.

“Your so fucking beautiful when you come,” he praises placing a gentle kiss to my lips.

I instantly feel the loss of his body heat when he pulls out of me walking into my bathroom. I hear water running before he returns moments later with a damp wash cloth.

“Any other time I would ask for this to be kept inside you as a reminder that your mine.”

He leans over my lower half pulling my legs apart so he can clean me.

“What’s so different about tonight then?” I whisper.

“You don’t need reminding anymore.”

The next morning, I awake to the empty space beside me.

Chapter Forty-eight

Caleb

Thefrontdoorknocksthree times signalling that the lawyer has arrived.

“Good morning Mr Garo, Mr Bailey,” a stout grey-haired man in his late fifties greets us when he enters the room, followed by a smartly dressed petite young red head in stiletto heels.

“Jim,” Eric greets giving Jim a firm hand shake.

“This is Andrea, an assistant attorney. She’s new to the firm and learning the ropes. I hope you don’t mind her being here at our meeting?”

“Not at all. Have a seat,” Eric says motioning to the chair. “Glad you could be here in such short notice.”

Jim clears his throat knowing he didn’t have any other choice.

“It was no trouble, Mr Garo. I always find it’s best to get these things out of the way early,” Jim replies fixing his tie.

Eric motions to the tray in the middle of the table with the freshly made coffee Mrs Watson made for their arrival. “Coffee?”

“No thank you,” they both say. “We have a long drive back.” Jim then turns his attention to me. “My condolences on the passing of your grandmother, Mr Bailey. She was a delightful lady that I had the pleasure of meeting.”

I nod.

“I hear she had a lovely send off at the funeral.”

“Indeed. Caleb made us all very proud.” Eric informs Jim as he bends opening his briefcase to retrieve a black folder before opening it up on the mahogany table. He arranges several papers in front of him then slides his hand into the breast pocket of his suit jacket pulling out a pair of reading glasses.

“Mr Bailey,” Jim begins but I stop him.

“Caleb. Call me Caleb.”

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