Page 106 of Ruined

"You're still wet for me," he says against my ear. "And not from the shower."

His fingers explore me, first one, then two sliding inside while his thumb circles exactly where I need it. I arch back against him, unable to stop the moan that escapes my lips.

"That's it," he says, his voice rough. "Show me how much you want this."

His fingers move faster, deeper, finding a rhythm that has me gasping. I press my forehead against the tile, surrendering to the sensation.

I'm trembling against the shower wall, Noah's fingers working magic inside me. The water streams down my back as I push against his hand, chasing the building pressure. I'm close—so close—my breath coming in short gasps.

"Noah," I whimper, my fingers curling against the tile.

Suddenly his fingers withdraw, leaving me aching and empty. I make a sound of protest, turning my head slightly.

"Not yet," Noah growls in my ear. "You don't get to come unless it's on my dick inside you."

I bite my lip, frustration and desire warring within me. His hands grip my hips and I feel the hard length of him pressing against my lower back. He slides it slowly down the curve of my spine, between my legs, teasing me.

"Please," I say, not recognizing my own voice—I've never begged for anything in my life.

Noah continues his torturous game, rubbing himself against me, sliding his cock between my thighs but never entering. Each pass brushes against my most sensitive spot, building the tension without release.

"Tell me you want it," he demands, his voice strained with his own control.

"I want you," I admit, past caring about pride. "Inside me. Now."

He positions himself at my entrance, the tip of him just barely pressing in. I push back, trying to take him deeper, but his grip on my hips tightens, holding me in place.

"My pace," he reminds me.

Then without warning Noah thrusts forward, burying himself to the hilt. I cry out, my body stretching to accommodate him. He gives me no time to adjust before pulling back and driving in again, setting a punishing rhythm.

"This is what you needed, isn't it?" he growls, one hand sliding up to fist my wet hair. "My cock filling you up."

"Yes," I gasp as he pounds into me, each thrust hitting perfectly inside. The shower continues to rain down on us, adding to the slick sounds of our bodies connecting.

I cling to the shower wall, my fingers slipping against the wet tile as Noah drives into me from behind. The water beats down on us, steam filling the air, but I barely notice any of it. All I can focus on is the feel of him inside me, stretching me, claiming me.

"Fuck, Evelyn," he groans, his grip tightening on my hips. "You feel so good."

His pace quickens, each thrust more desperate than the last. I push back against him, meeting his movements, wanting him deeper. The tension builds inside me, a coiling pressure that threatens to snap.

"I'm close," I whisper, my voice breaking. "Noah, please?—"

He slides one hand around to where we're joined, his fingers finding that perfect spot. The dual sensation of his cock filling me and his fingers circling my clit sends me spiraling toward the edge.

"Come with me," he commands, his voice taut with effort. "Now, Evelyn."

His words push me over. I shatter around him, waves of pleasure crashing through me as I cry out his name. Noahfollows immediately, burying himself deep inside me with one final, powerful thrust.

He presses his lips against my ear and the sound he makes—a raw, primal moan that vibrates through my entire body—intensifies my own release. Hearing him lose control because of me, feeling the way his body trembles against mine, satisfies something deep within me that I didn't know needed satisfying.

We stay connected for several moments, both of us breathing hard as the water continues to cascade over our bodies. I feel boneless, completely spent, held up only by Noah's arm around my waist and the wall in front of me.

CHAPTER 32

Iwatch her fingers dance over the remote, flicking through Netflix options like she's scanning sheet music. Evelyn finally settles on some crime drama—ironic, considering our lives. The show plays but I'm not following the plot. My mind is elsewhere, trapped in concrete cells and hospital rooms.

My chest throbs with every heartbeat. The bullet came too fucking close. Three days of surgery and a hospital bed, and here I am, pretending I'm fine. I'm not. But weakness isn't an option in my world.

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