Page 116 of Ruthless Redemption

“Ihappened.”

I push my bound wrists against his chest, demanding his attention. “What does that mean?”

“They’re reminders,mia dea.”

“Of what?”

“That I don’t deserve you. That I’m too weak to walk away.”

I stare at him. Shake my head. I don’t understand. “You deliberately hurt yourself?”

“I was hurting you more.”

Another piece of me becomes reclaimed by him. Imprisoned. My heart forgives him a thousand times over.

His hand returns to my mound, his lips to my neck. I close my eyes, drowning in longing, my chest burning with hope. We’re going to make this work or die trying. I vow it.

His fingers slide through my slickness as he nuzzles my jaw. “Sono fottutamente duro per te,Layla,” he murmurs against my skin. “Non ci sarà mai nessun altro. Solo tu.”

I mewl with every word. Whimper. Gasp.

He works me into a frenzy of pants and moans, my limbs heavy with anticipation. My heart full from his worship.

“Please fuck me,” I beg. “I want you more than anything.”

“Have I earned my place inside your sweet cunt?” His thumb rubs my clit. His fingers twist with the same rhythm.

“You know you have.”

He licks my neck. “I need to make sure, because there’s no regretting this,mia dea. Once I’m inside you, that’s all there ever is.”

I nod. It’s all I’ll ever want.

“Are you sure?” He slides higher, aligning the head of his cock with my pussy, the hard length teasing my entrance.

“Positive.”

“To forever then,la mia stella polare.” He plunges inside me, effortlessly. Sinking. Stretching.

I moan, my hands seizing the coverings, my back arching off the bed. He gives me what I asked for. Hard and so incredibly fast.

He keeps my leg pinned over his shoulder as he plunders, our eyes locked, his expression fierce.

His reverence roars at me without sound. His devotion is felt through every harsh thrust. His worship consumes me through the slap of flesh and build of pleasure.

The organs he severed with his lies regenerate. The limbs he broke become renewed. He builds me back stronger. More determined.

“Matthew.” His name is a gasp. A plea. A prayer.

I can’t hold on much longer.

He groans, driving me to the precipice. To the point of no return. “Mia dea.”

“I’m close…So close…” I grasp tighter to the coverings. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

He guides a hand between us, reclaiming my clit. “Non mi fermerò mai.” He adds pressure, sending me over the edge, making me cry out as I come. “Non quando sei mia ora.”

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