Page 54 of Claimed By Ruin

God, the irony wasn't lost on me. I smoothed my hands down his back, up his sides, shivering at the play of muscles under my palms as he did the same.

Curled my fingers and pulled his shirt up and off. He curled his fingers and did the same. We reached for each other’s pants simultaneously, my hand weaving under his as I worked his belt open.

He popped the button of the jeans I worried wouldn’t fit soon and pushed my pants down at the same time as I did his. Did the same with my underwear.

I reached out and rubbed my hand around his shaft as he used his fingers to test my readiness and coat my clit with my wetness. I gathered the precum that leaked out of his slit and rubbed it on his shaft as he stroked me.

I had one arm on his shoulder, he had one on mine, just enough space between our bodies for our hands to work. He pushed me down on the bed and I pulled him with me.

We moved in synchronicity, my thighs opening to welcome him as he slid home. My walls opened as he fed me his cock, squeezing as he pressed inside.

I locked my legs around him when he was fully seated. I stared into his eyes at the first thrust, meeting him with one of my own.

And so we moved a twist of roaming hands and entwined bodies. Thrusts and counter-thrusts, our breaths in time. I came apart in his arms at the first blast of his cum.

I wished everything else could be like this, holding on to that wish as I rode out the climax. I kept my eyes closed, my body entangled with Jack’s until it was impossible to stay that way, my hips hurting from the position, our combined mess leaking out of me. But as long as I had my eyes closed, I could hold on to this, knowing that it might be true.

Trying not to be heartbroken over the fact that that truth would only last as long as this moment did.

And once this moment was over, I was left with the real world. A world where this, as perfect as it was, didn’t exist.

SIXTEEN

Jack

“I’m going to win you over, Jack,” Dante said. “I’ve made it my mission.”

“Don’t you have other shit to do?” I grunted.

“So much shit, Jack, but me and you. We could be friends.”

I cut my eye at him. “You don’t seem like the type who has friends.”

He chuckled. “That’s where you’re wrong. I have lots of friends.” He shrugged. “Fair share of enemies too, but most people decide it’s easier to love me than hate me.”

“Good for them. I don’t give a fuck about you; shut up and keep working.”

Dante laughed and started to dig.

He’d been here for a week and, as far as I could see, was in perfect health. Lourdes still said he needed time to heal, but I wasn’t sure if that was true or if she just liked having him around.

“Seriously, how’d you find this place?” I asked.

His words from before nagged me.

“I told you,” Dante said.

I studied him, and decided I believed him.

“How far have you been?” I asked.

I was genuinely interested.

Between Nebraska and back, I ran into virtually nothing. A blessing, I suppose, but also a curse. Some naive, microscopic part of me thought maybe something, somewhere, made it.

But I didn’t see any evidence of it.

“All the way to Wyoming. Was headed back to Atlanta when I spotted you,” Dante said.