Page 116 of Ruin Me Gently

She told me I was good.

A violent shudder ripped through me, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. It had been a plea—a quiet, desperate request slipping from my lips. And she’d given it to me. Just like that. No hesitation, no mocking lilt to her voice.

She gave me what I needed, like she wanted me to have it.

My throat went tight, my pulse hammering against my ribs as I looked down at her. Lying there, waiting, a vision of ruin, beauty and divinity.

And I was going to show her exactly how good I could really be for her.

I slid my hands up the inked curves of her thighs, taking my time, savouring every inch of her. She was warm, impossibly soft, and when my fingers trailed higher, nudging her legs apart, she gasped—her whole body shivering in response.

The sight of her like this, open, drenched, bare for me all over again, nearly broke me.

Every inch of her was temptation.

Her curves, soft and inviting, bathed in shadows. The way she trembled beneath my touch, how her breath hitched every time my hands roamed higher—it was intoxicating.

I wanted to press my lips to every inch of skin, to trace the soft slope of her stomach with my tongue, to drag my mouth over her nipples, sucking them deep just to feel her arch into me.

I reached for the hem of her shirt, fingertips just grazing the fabric, about to lift—

“No,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”

I let the fabric slip from my grasp and leaned in, capturing her lips with mine in a slow, lingering kiss. A promise. A reassurance. A silent vow that I would never take more than she was willing to give. I didn’t need to see all of her to worship her.

But I needed to keep tasting her. I dragged my tongue over the seam of her lips, swallowing her breathy little sigh before shifting lower, tracing kisses down her throat, over her collarbone.

She whimpered, hands clawing at the counter, thighs quivering beneath me.

I slid a hand between them, fingers teasing through the mess I’d already made of her, spreading it over her skin, over her clit.

“You’re so goddamn perfect. You know that?” I murmured against her neck, rolling her clit under my thumb.

Then I pushed a finger inside her, her walls clenching around me instantly.

“Oh, fuck—” I gasped, my breath breaking apart against her cheek.

I curled deep, pushing up right against her G-spot.

“More,” she moaned, her hips rocking down into my hand, grinding against my hand like she needed it to breathe.

I pushed in another finger, stretching her, and she choked out a strangled sound, her back arching and hands scrambling for something to hold onto.

My free hand gripped her thigh, holding her steady—holdingmyselfsteady, because I was shaking, too close to losing myself.

“Tell me,” I groaned, forehead pressing against hers as I thrust my fingers deeper. “Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

A whimper. Perfect. So damnperfect.

“Come on,” I murmured, my fingers thrusting into her harder. “Let me hear it. Tell me I’m making you feel so good—tell me I’m giving you exactly what you need.”

She gasped, her thighs trembling.

“You are,” her breath hitched as she rocked down harder. “You’re—you’re—yes— just like that—”

A sharp sob spilled from her lips, her walls clamping down so hard I swore I saw stars. And the mess she was making—fuck—I felt it everywhere. Wetness spilling over my fingers, dripping onto the counter, slicking my skin inher.

“Cazzo, grazie,” I choked out, my voice raw. “Thank you for letting me have you like this.”

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