Page 138 of Ruin
Tommy
The lock clicks soft under my pick, but my brain is louder, cataloging every detail: the angle of the camera in the hallway, the precise 23 seconds I had while Vin’s guy looped the feed, exit route options. Calculating how long it will take for the stairwell guard to be found after I choked him out, silent and fast, or the other two guards I took out between the elevator and the bridal suite door.
Trying to determine whether or not she’ll be angry with me for showing up here after she refused to see me the last two days.
Once I step inside the door, the noise in my head cuts off. She’s there.
Giovanna is sitting at the dressing table in a white wedding gown that flows around her. Her skin is glowing as always, but her shoulders curled in on themselves, her hands trembling as she swipes at her face. The air smells like hairspray, perfume, roses wilting in vases. She looks up at me, her eyes swollen red, mascara smudged like bruises under her lashes.
She smiles at me through her tears. Fuck, she’s so beautiful, it’s hard to breathe.
“I should have brought waterproof mascara,” she says, voice wrecked, raw. “It keeps running, and I have to keep redoing it.”
I cross the room in three strides, dragging her out of her chair and into my arms. The gown clings to her curvy breasts and waist, then flares out, all soft lace and silk. I’m careful with her hair, knotted in some fancy twist with curls falling loose by her face, and pull back to cup her face, staring at her wet pink mouth then dragging my eyes up to meet hers.
“You’re beautiful,” I choke out.
She laughs, a cracked sound. “You’re not supposed to see me in my wedding dress.”
“That only applies to the groom,” I murmur.
Her smile contorts, and she collapses in my arms, sobbing against the lapel of my suit. I cup her jaw and force her to look at me, but when she turns her big wet hazel eyes to me, something inside me breaks, and I crush my mouth to hers.
She tastes like salt and tears and desperation. My hands are everywhere, tearing, yanking, sliding up under layers of silk until my fingers meet her heat. Her sobs turn into moans, her nails carving my back as I drop to my knees, push the weight of her gown up over her thighs, and eat her like I’m starving.
Her scar is there, the orchid and vines I carved into her skin, and I trace my tongue along its lines. She arches, gasping, her heels spiking into my shoulders, and I grab her ankles, pressing her feet into me harder, until I feel her white wedding heels break skin through my suit. Groaning into her pussy as I work her, she shudders, her nails digginginto my hair as she bucks against my face, chanting my name until she falls apart in my mouth.
I stand, unbuckling, unzipping, dragging her up to her knees so I can kiss her again before I shove my cock in her mouth. “Eyes on me, sweet girl,” I murmur to her, gripping her fancy hairstyle in my fist as her hazel eyes sparkle with lust and tears.
She gags, mascara streaking darkly down her cheeks, spit shining her chin, her pink lips stretched wide around my cock as she takes me in her throat. She’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.
“My beautiful mess,” I say, smearing her lipstick across her cheek with my thumb as I hold her head still and fuck her.
I pull out of her mouth and yank her to standing, then turn her, bending her over the dressing table, forcing her to look at her reflection in the mirror.
“Look at yourself,” I growl against her ear as I bend over her back, slamming into her. “Look how fucking beautiful you are. Look at what you make me do to you. I’m the only man who will ever be inside you. The only man who will ever make you come.”
“Yes, baby,” she whispers, and I groan, fucking her harder. Her eyes are locked on mine in the mirror, face flushed. She looks destroyed and holy all at once, and I stand to my full height, still deep inside, and slap her ass hard, the crack of my skin on hers echoing in the room.
Her hooded eyes pop wide as she gasps, and I smirk at her. “You were a bad girl, not letting me come see you the past two days.” I bring my hand down hard on her other cheek, admiring the red handprint it leaves behind. “Telling me ‘no’ when I want to fall asleep balls deep inside you is notallowed. Telling me ‘no’ when I need to be inside you will never happen again. Do you understand?”
She can barely get the words out. “Yes…yes…”
“You’re mine. Do you hear me? Mine. Say it, Giovanna.”
Her voice breaks, pleading. “Yours. I’m—yours….”
“You are not marrying anyone but me,” I growl, watching her stare back at me, clinging to my gaze in the mirror, her hands scrabbling across the dressing table, knocking over bottles and makeup and brushes as I pound into her.
I grunt as I slap her ass as I fuck her, using her dress as reins as I ride her. “The dumbest thing I ever did was wait for anything with you. I should’ve been fucking you the minute you turned 18, moved you in with me, made you my wife. You’re the only woman I’ll ever come inside of, the only one I’ll ever need.”
She splinters around me, screaming my name, and I go with her, filling her, burying myself so deep she’ll never get me out. For a second, everything is perfect—her trembling body pressed to mine, our breaths ragged in sync, love and rage and forever burning through me.
I hold her face, making her meet my eyes in the mirror. “I love you, Gi, always. You’re coming with me. Get out of that fucking dress. We’re leaving.”
Her blissful expression melts into anguish. “If I don’t marry Antonio, Aurelio will kill all of us.”
I pull her up and turn her to look at me. Her hair is falling over her face, and I smooth it back. “Let me and my brothers worry about that. Now get dressed.”
