Page 7 of Vows of Ruin

She climbs up without hesitation, and damn if that doesn’t undo something in me. I kneel near the foot of the bed, taking my time, slowly kissing my way up one of her legs, then gently bend her knee and plant her foot against the mattress.

“Keep it there,” I murmur, she does with fire in her eyes. I do the same with the other, spreading her open for me, for this.

I meet her gaze. “I want to watch how you touch yourself.”

She gasps, lips parting in surprise, but her hands move. One grazes over her chest, teasing her nipple. The other trails lower, slowly, hesitantly at first, but I can see the arousal burning under her skin.

When her fingers slip in, brushing her where she’s already soaked, her eyes flutter shut.

“Eyes on me, Wrenley,” I command gently.

Her lashes lift, barely, but they do. And I reward her with a slow circle of my finger against her clit, which makes her hips rise off the bed.

“Good girl,” I say, and I see the way the words hit her like a jolt to her core. I keep watching, undoing my belt with one hand, my eyes never leave hers. She watches too, watches as I free myself, as the tension tightens between us like a wire about to snap.

When I finally crawl forward, settling between her thighs, her breath hitches. She reaches for me, but I press a kiss on her inner thigh and shake my head.

“Not yet.”

I want to memorize this. Every sound she makes, every arch of her back, every time she trembles under my touch. Because this isn’t just about sex. It’s about finally claiming something that was always meant to be mine. Her.

Chapter Four

Wrenley

His mouth is relentless. Reaper, Liam, feasts on me like he’s starving, like I’m the first taste of warmth he’s ever had. The way his tongue moves, slow and firm, then fast and precise, drives the breath from my lungs. When I moan, it spurs him on, his grip on my thighs tightening as if anchoring himself to the moment.

Then, God, his fingers join in. One curls inside me just right, brushing against that spot that sends sparks ricocheting up my spine. His pace never falters, coaxing the tension in me tighter and tighter until I snap, crying out his name like a prayer. My hips jerk against his face, and he groans low in his throat, my pleasure is his reward.

When he finally lifts his head, his mouth is slick with the evidence of what he just did to me, and he doesn’t wipe it away. He wears it like a mark. Like I branded him. He crawls up my body, pressing me into the mattress in the best way, and settles at my entrance. The blunt piercing nudges me, and I gasp, needing more.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, voice rough and commanding, but gentle.

“All of you,” I whisper, lifting my hips to meet him. “Now.”

His body sinks into me inch by glorious inch, filling me in a way that makes my eyes roll back. He stretches me perfectly, stealing the breath from my lungs as he bottoms out. My hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in, and he doesn’t stop me. He moves slowly at first, savoring it, and it’s almost too much. Almost.

One of his hands snakes around my throat, not tight, just there, grounding me.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he murmurs. “You’re so beautiful, taking everything I give you.”

The sound I make is almost a sob. My body rises to meet his with every stroke, hips moving without restraint, chasing that high again, that beautiful breaking point.

I’m close. So close. Then he pulls out.

A whimper leaves my lips before I can stop it, but I don’t have time to complain. He flips me onto my stomach in one fluid motion, gripping my hips and dragging them back until I’m on my knees. Then he’s inside me again, all at once, hard and deep, stealing every coherent thought from my mind.

I cry out, bracing myself against the bed as he sets a ruthless rhythm, his hips slamming into mine with perfect, punishing precision. A fist tangles in my hair, pulling firm but not cruel, guiding me back against him. I arch into it, desperate and undone.

Then he pulls me even higher until my back is flush against his chest, one hand still in my hair, the other slipping around to press tight circles over my clit.

“Cum for me,” he growls, right in my ear.

I shatter around him, crying out his name as the pleasure burns through me like wildfire. My whole body shakes with it, legs barely holding me up, and his rhythm stutters as he follows me over the edge with a guttural sound that shakes the air between us.

He stays buried in me for a moment, forehead pressed between my shoulder blades, both of us panting like we’ve just survived something. Maybe we have.

His skin is warm beneath my cheek, rising and falling with every slow breath. I trace lazy circles over his chest, the steady thump of his heart grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed. We haven’t said anything in a while, haven’t needed to. Our bodies did all the confessing for us.