Page 105 of Ruined

She looks up at me through long lashes, her lips parting to take me into her mouth. The wet heat of her engulfs me inch by inch until I feel the back of her throat.

I thread my fingers through her hair, not guiding—just feeling the silken strands between my fingers as she works me deeper. She gags slightly, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, but she doesn't stop. Instead she takes me deeper, her throat constricting around me as she pushes past her limit.

Her tears streak down her cheeks but there's determination in her eyes. She wants this—wants to please me—and the realization makes me harder than I thought possible.

I grip her hair tighter, fighting to maintain control as she takes me deeper. She looks up, locking her gaze with mine. Those blue eyes—defiant even now—hold me captive.

"Fuck, Evelyn," I groan, my hips jerking forward involuntarily.

Her eyes never leave mine. Even with tears running down her cheeks there's power in her stare. She knows exactly what she's doing to me. My breathing turns ragged as pressure builds at the base of my spine.

"I'm close," I warn, my voice barely recognizable.

She moans around me, the vibration pushing me to the edge. Just before I lose control I pull back, slipping free from her mouth with a wet sound that echoes in the kitchen.

I grip myself, stroking roughly as she tilts her head back, offering her body to me. Her chest rises and falls with each breath, skin flushed pink from her own release.

"Give it to me," she demands, her voice hoarse from taking me.

My orgasm hits like a freight train. I come with a guttural groan, painting thick white streaks across her perfect breasts. Rope after rope lands on her skin, some reaching her collarbone,the rest pooling between her breasts before running down her stomach in rivulets.

She watches me through it all, those blue eyes never wavering as I mark her as mine. My cum glistens on her skin, claiming every inch it touches.

She rises slowly, her movements graceful even now. "I need a shower," she says, her voice still rough from taking me in her throat.

Before she can turn away, I grab her wrist, pulling her back against my chest. The wound throbs but I don't give a fuck. Pain is nothing compared to the need I still have for her.

"You're not going anywhere alone," I growl against her ear.

My hand slides down to grip her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh before I deliver a sharp slap that echoes through the kitchen. She gasps, her body jerking against mine.

"You're going to have a fucking shower with my dick inside you," I tell her, my voice low and dangerous. "I'm not done with you yet."

I can feel her pulse racing under my grip, see the flush spreading across her chest. She doesn't pull away. She presses back against me, her ass grinding against my already hardening cock.

"Then take me there," she challenges, turning her head to meet my gaze.

I walk into the bathroom, my body still tingling from Noah's touch. Steam rises as I turn the shower on hot, and fills the room with thick clouds. I glance down at my chest, at the evidence of Noah's desire still marking my skin.

"You look good wearing me," Noah says from the doorway, his eyes glittering with hunger.

I step under the spray, letting the water cascade over me. "Don't flatter yourself," I say but there's no bite in my words.

The truth is, I liked it. I liked tasting him, feeling his hands grip my hair, hearing the sounds he made when I took him in my mouth. The power I held over him in those moments was intoxicating—different from the power I feel when I play violin but no less potent.

I run my hands over my chest, washing away the evidence of our encounter. Part of me wishes I could keep his mark on me longer. The thought surprises me—I've never felt this way before, never wanted to be claimed.

I hear what’s left of Noah's clothes hitting the floor behind me. My body responds instantly, anticipating his touch.

"Don't turn around," he commands as he slides open the glass door.

I keep my back to him, water streaming down my spine. His presence fills the shower, the space suddenly smaller, hotter.

"Spread your legs and put your hands on the wall."

I hesitate for just a moment—a final, token resistance—before placing my palms flat against the cool tile and widening my stance.

Noah's chest presses against my back, careful of his bandaged wound. His lips find my neck as his hand slides around my hip, down between my legs.

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