Page 76 of Ruined By Blood
My body arches off the bed, a moan escaping before I can stop it. The sensation is nothing like I've experienced before.
"Fuck," Enzo groans, withdrawing his finger and bringing it to his mouth. He licks it clean, eyes never leaving mine. "You taste fucking perfect, piccola."
Heat floods my cheeks at what he says.
Enzo steps back, never taking his eyes off mine as he pulls his shirt over his head. I gasp at the sight of him. His torso a canvas of intricate tattoos stretching across hard muscle. A sword pierces a black rose at the center of his chest, surrounded by script that travels up his neck anddown his arms. His body tells stories I want to learn, each tattoo marking moments I can only imagine.
Scars interrupt the artwork. A jagged mark across his ribs, another near his collarbone. Each one evidence of the violent world he inhabits.
His hands move to his belt, unfastening it slowly while watching my reaction. He sheds his pants and boxers in one smooth motion, and my breath catches at the sight of him fully naked.
I've seen men before, but never like this—never when I wanted to look, never when it was my choice. He's beautiful in a primal, dangerous way that makes my heart race. He goes and reaches a pack of condoms from his wallet and then he gets closer. He is huge and I feel a shiver crossing over me once again.
The bed dips as he moves over me, his weight supported on his forearms. The heat of his skin against mine feels electric, and I arch up instinctively, seeking more contact. My fingers trace the edges of a tattoo on his shoulder.
"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice tight with restraint.
I nod, unable to find words for what I need.
He positions himself between my thighs, the hard length of him pressing against my entrance. He enters me slowly, allowing my body time to adjust to his size. The sensation is overwhelming. A fullness that borders between pleasure and pain.
"Fuck," he groans, dropping his forehead against mine. His muscles tremble with the effort of holding back. "You feel... Christ, Sienna."
I can sense his restraint in the tension of his body—feel how he's holding back, trying to be gentle for my sake. But I don't want gentleness. I want to feel everything, to take what I want instead of enduring what's forced upon me.
I roll my hips upward, taking him deeper, and the groan that tears from his throat sends heat coursing through me.
"More," I whisper, hands gripping his shoulders. "Faster."
He begins to move inside me, pace increasing as my body encourages him. Each thrust builds a tension I've never felt before, a climbing sensation that makes me desperate for something just out of reach.
Enzo's hand slides up my throat, fingers wrapping carefully around my neck and jaw without pressure. His thumb tilts my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his.
"Look at me," he commands softly. "Stay with me."
His eyes lock onto mine as he drives into me, the connection more intimate than the joining of our bodies.
The tension builds higher, my breathing growing erratic. Something is happening, a new sensation coiling tighter with each thrust. Suddenly it breaks, pleasure washing through me in waves. My back arches off the bed as I cry out, muscles clenching around him.
"Fuck, Sienna," he groans, his rhythm faltering as he follows me over the edge. His body shudders against mine, face buried in my neck as he spills inside me.
We lay tangled together, hearts racing in sync. For the first time, I understand what sex can be.
And I want more.
CHAPTER 26
Enzo's heartbeat is steady beneath my ear. Our bodies are still warm, twisted together in sheets. The room is dark except for moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting everything in soft silver.
The silence between us feels comfortable now, not like the tense, dangerous thing it was before. Just a few days ago, I couldn't have imagined being here, feeling safe in someone's arms.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks, his voice a low rumble I can feel against my cheek.
"My mother," I answer before I can stop myself. The words just slip out, carried on this strange new trustbetween us.
His hand, which had been making lazy circles on my back, pauses. "You want to talk about her?"
I nod against his chest. "There was a night." My voice catches, and I have to start again. "When I was fifteen, about a year after everything started, she tried to help me escape."
