Page 100 of Ruin Me Gently

Nothing.

Then footsteps. Moving away.

What the fuck?Was he serious?

I was still sprawled out, thoroughly wrecked, still buzzing, still soaking wet. This man had just fucked me open with his fingers and then what? Left?

No. That would make zero sense.

It wasn’t like he’d even gotten anything out of it. Not like he’d just done a come-dump-and-run.

So what the hell was this?

The longer I lay there, blindfolded and abandoned, the more my skin heated with irritation.

Was this just… what he did? Is this what he meant byhurting me?

Absolutely the fuck not.

I kicked the wet blanket underneath me onto the floor. I’d deal with that later. Then I reached for the scarf, ready to rip the damn thing off, when—

Footsteps again. Coming back up.

“You can take it off now.”

The light hit me like a truck, and I groaned, immediately shielding my eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, voice still rough from all the breathy moaning.

There was a pause, a long one.

“What do you mean?”

I huffed, still blindly squinting behind my palm. “I mean,” I said slowly, “you finger-fuck someone into another dimension and then disappear? Real nice.”

“I thought you might want a snack and some water,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the whole world. “And I had to get my scarf.”

My brain stuttered.

Wait… what?

A shadow moved closer, blocking out some of the light. I blinked hard past the glare, still half-blinded, but the first thing I saw when my vision started to clear?

His hair. Thick, dark curls, wild and messy, haloed around his now, half-covered face. It was the first time I’d seen them.

My stomach dropped. Not in a bad way. In a holy-shit-what-the-fuck kind of way. It was so much worse. So much better.

I swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as my vision cleared. My hand dropped slightly, and suddenly, I was sat there ogling him.

This gorgeous mystery of a man had given me the best orgasm of my entire life—without even getting himself off—and then, he’d gone and… brought me snacks?

The embarrassment hit me full force. I was a dickhead. I’d just told him off, and he was standing there like some dark haired, muscle bound, tattooed guardian angel, holding out an offering in the form of hydration and sodium.

“Shit. I’m so sorry, I just thought—” I started.

“Oh, fuck no, I’m sorry.” His voice cut through mine, rushed and panicked. “I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t leaving, sorry. I just wanted you to be relaxed, shit, sorry, I won’t do it again, or I’ll tell you next time—”

Oh my God. He was spiralling, tripping over his words because he thought he’d upset me.

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